


The Expungers

by csbanahan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22199452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csbanahan/pseuds/csbanahan
Summary: On April 1st 2015 the world would be visited by "The Expungers," robotic visitors from beyond the stars with a simple mission statement:"We're here to help"But with all their 'help' manifesting in violence and their representative, the mysterious "Emissary" insisting on the unconditional surrender of all world governments what they're here to do certainly doesn't seem like 'help'.Around the world people adapt to this new reality, one where the threat of domination by an alien species is a fact of every day life as their leaders try to figure out the best course of action against this seemingly unstoppable threat.And yet, some see "The Expungers" as heroes and saviors...





	The Expungers

The Expungers

April 1st, 2015  
That is the day when it all stopped making sense. The day when calamitous change began for every man, woman and child on this planet.  
That was the day when the first of the citadels appeared. Eclipsing the sun, a mile or more across, with no adornments, decorations, visible entrances or exits appeared in the middle of a desolated section of the Mojave, seemingly risen whole from the earth, effortlessly displacing all nearby geographic inconsistencies, creating all at once a monument in which it seemed the land grew and changed around it rather than the other way around. It was first picked up by the seismographs, then the radars, then by the human eye as researchers and government agencies came out to investigate. Attempts at stifling the media were made, but were then rendered futile when it was reported that another such structure emerged in the Sahara, then the Arabian Desert. More reports would come in declaring similar phenomenon in Austrailia’s Great Sandy Desert, Turkmenistan’s Karakum, the Gobi is Eastern Asia and even unsubstantiated reports of unusual activity in Antarctica. For 3 days, these structures remained an utter mystery. For 3 days nothing about them made sense. For 3 days they resisting all attempts at breaching. For 3 days, the featureless surfaces were the only thing known about these things. Then on April 4th, each one opened from the top and something came out.  
Flies, or a close approximation thereof emerged from the top of each structure. Each one approximately half the size of a full-grown human. Thousands emerges from each monolith, their swarms turning the sky dark in some locations. None came close enough to be properly assessed with the human eye, but upon magnification it was theorized that these swarms were an artificial life form, their exoskeletons being made of apparent synthetic materials.  
Panic erupted in the populace. States of emergency were declared in any part of the world sufficiently developed and peaceful enough to have such protocols in place. Riots broke out and were quickly dealt with. For 4 days, humanity hid in their homes. Some feared that the endtimes had come. Others believed in an invasion from beyond the stars. Still more simply couldn’t create a theory that could adequately explain the horrors that had been unleashed upon the planet.  
For their part, the flies dispersed across the Earth and did little to disrupt the lives of the humans who feared them so. Slowly, people grew daring. People saw and heard the tales of those in remote corners of the Earth without the luxury of roofs to hide under living their daily lives free of menace from the skies and decided to try their luck for themselves.  
As this unfolded, an Emergency meeting of the United Nations convened in a mutual global attempt to address the threat that was quickly blanketing the earth. Little did they know that answers to many of their questions awaited them.  
The man looked wholly unremarkable. Pale of skin, his eyes hidden behind a pair of reflective sunglasses, his completely bald head hidden under a fedora, his gaunt frame covered in a nondescript gray suit. His slow walk towards the UN’s national headquarters betrayed neither excitement nor fear.  
With the importance of the events transpiring within, the grounds were on lockdown, with extra security stationed both outside and in to protect both against any airborne aggression and any who would seek to use this opportunity to sow global chaos for their own inscrutable ends. So, upon seeing the small, unimpressive, unknown man, it was the responsibility of those on patrol to stop him.  
“Identification and Registration please.” The man wasn’t intimately familiar with every person with clearance into the building, but he was fairly sure he had never seen this particular suited diplomat before.  
The man did not even break stride, his gait brushing aside the security officer effortlessly. The man, and the others at the security checkpoint knew their duty and how best to execute it.  
“Sir, stop where you are immediately. We will not hesitate to use force!” The officer’s ultimatum was delivered competently, but to a deaf audience, as the man continued his stride to the door.  
“We have a breach! Take him down.!” The man and two of his compatriots immediately set to take the man down. All three leapt on top of the man, but were shrugged off as though they were nothing but rainwater. Next came the nonlethal ordnance. First one, then two of the security officers discharged their tasers, both striking the man. The combined voltage was enough to drop any human on the face of the planet. The man simply twitched like he was shaking off a piss shiver, manually removed the electrodes and dropped them on the ground.  
“What the hell are we dealing with?” The head officer thought as he removed the pepper spray from his belt, wondering if he should have just gone for his firearm instead. His impulse was proven correct the man’s only reaction to the pepper spray with to sway the can out of his hand. Then, much to his surprise, the man stopped an addressed him.  
“Sir, I believe we have both proven our point. You are determined to protect the collection of diplomats congregated in this building, and I am determined to speak to them. Certainly you have noticed by now that I am not simply some man off the street. I have information vital to the World and I will see it delivered. The best thing you can do in this circumstance is to trust my benign intent and lead me to them.”

Nobody in security was prepared for this kind of situation. Whoever stood before him was not human. Not in the conventional sense. He claimed to have information, but information of what? Collectively the guards weighed the coded ethics and rules of their position against the possibility that this man could enlighten the world about the nature of the myriad swarms that seemed to have congregated in every corner of the world.  
A belt of assault rifle gunfire broke the moral deadlock. One officer was unwilling to waver from her duty. She wordlessly unleashed a clip straight into the man’s body, causing him to convulse wildly before collapsing, his suit and hat shredded, his glasses shattered…yet not a drop of blood could be found.  
The man effortlessly arose from his intended grave. The holes of the suit filling before their eyes, superficial flesh wounds smoothed out in seconds, his glasses rebuilt themselves on his face, but not before they could see the hint of something very wrong. Two silver sclera accompanying two yellow corneas stared at the gathered security force. The officer closest to the man couldn’t help but think he saw a trace of disappointment in the man’s eyes. With terror seizing their hearts, every assembled member of the task force did the only thing they could think to do, they trained their rifles on the uncanny valley monstrosity standing before them and prepared to fire until the interloper finally got the hint and decided to stay down.  
Unfortunately as they scrambled to stabilize their thoughts and come to a mutual accord on how to deal with the issue in front them, they were rendered deaf to the loudening buzz in their ears and blind to the descend of the swarm who took it upon themselves to directly interfere with the affairs of man for the first time. It was over in seconds, as the flies swarmed over the armed human, puncturing them each in dozens of places with their bladed appendages before taking to the skies…with the remains of the security detail in tow.  
The man entered the door to the UN Headquarters unopposed.  
It was atypical for the United Nations General Assembly to meet and discuss issues of international security, but this was an atypical situation, and every member of the union demanded that their voice be heard.  
The United Nations faced a crisis of unprecedented magnitude, and yet the only thing that could be mutually agreed upon was that something needed to be done about it. Some nations suggested putting resources into breaching and eventually investigating the massive hives from which the flies emerged; others decried it as an unnecessary frivolity and a dangerous one besides. Many of the attending nations could agree upon a cessation of all existing hostilities between nations. Even among those nations where both sides could agree, neither side could bring themselves to trust the other to act in good faith. There were nations that advocated for immediate military action against the swarms and others who wished to display restraint. There were nations who advocated for the formation of an international military effort committed to dealing with the problem, there were nations who resented the notion of committing any amount of their resources to an effort they believed would favor other countries over their own. A few vocal minorities even went as far as to advocate for international nuclear proliferation, but few were yet willing to go that far. At present, Fredrick Heimeyer, representative of Germany was on the floor rebuking that very stance.  
“…what I am seeing here is a short-sighted and ultimately self-destructive course of action put forth by Mr. Sun. Nuclear proliferation, given what we know of these invaders, is absolutely a non-viable answer. They cloud the sky in swarms, utilizing nuclear warheads against such a foe would create only catastrophic environmental harm. I will support the stance brought forth by Mrs. Pirochette, Mrs. Blatt and Mr. DeRossa among others. Information is what we require here. Information that I believe, and I know many of you believe, can only be found within these mysterious structures the swarms came out of. Gaining access to the interior of these structures must be the foremost priority of any governing body who takes it upon themselves to address this threat.”  
Mr Heimeyer’s address was suddenly and surprisingly interrupted as the man in gray made his way into the auditorium and down the aisle.  
“Sir, this is a closed session of…where is security? What is the meaning of this?”  
The man calmly made his way to representative Heimeyer’s position. No security was forthcoming. Perhaps fearing this man to be an assassin, Mr. Heimeyer instinctively decided to put as much distance between him and the stranger as possible. For his part, the stranger took the podium.  
“Representative Heimeyer, do not be afraid. It is not my goal here to harm anybody. Unfortunately in the process of arriving here there were some who were unfortunately harmed. Your security had to be neutralized as a consequence of my appearance here.”  
Confusion grasped the general assembly as they pondered how this man could have breached their walls and what his intent was. The man continued speaking

“I am of the understanding that I am standing before national representatives of every country on Earth?”  
“Sir, this is not an open forum. I have no idea how you arrived here or what happened to the security you undoubtedly encountered on the way here, but I am going to have to ask you to leave.” The voice belonged to acting United Nations General Assembly President Richard Prudhomme, who was not the kind of person to allow his imagination to run wild and paint this man as some manner of otherworldly terror capable of single-handedly destroying their security force.  
The man turned around to acknowledge Prudhomme’s presence behind him, then continued to address the general assembly.  
“I understand that what I am doing here is incredibly unusual. However, before you make any decisions over whether or not to listen to me, I believe introductions are in order. You see, I myself am a representative of sorts. I am the voice of the Expungers, you may refer to me as The Emissary.”  
“What the devil is this nonsense you’re spewing. We are not in the business of listening to special interest groups or whatever it is that you represent.” Prudhomme said as he attempted to physically dislodge the man who just introduced himself as The Emissary from the dais. The Emissary, without moving as much as a single step from the dais or even changing his facial expression, gave the president a one-handed shove that knocked Prudhomme 5 feet away and off of his feet.  
“I do not represent a ‘special interest group’ as you know them. No, I am rather a representative of the very same “invasive” elements that even as we speak begin their work in earnest.”  
A shocked buzz rocked the general assembly.  
“Yes, I am one of them. I am designed to speak on their behalf and explain our motivations and goals. First off, I wish to express that we have absolutely no interest in harming any form of life on this planet. The “flies” as you call them whom are circling the earth have a simple goal to achieve, we would ask you do not interfere in this goal as it is vital to our purpose here. The flies will not harm those who do not seek to hinder them or me.”  
“What is this goal?” The voice belonged to French representative Eliza Pirochette.  
“It is not something that can be disclosed at this time. What can be disclosed is what we are here for. Quite simply put, we are here to help you and we ask for your cooperation in this matter.”  
“Help us. Help us with what exactly?” Moldavian representative Kris Sturmgart was the first to ask.  
“We are here to help you find the right path. Evolution is leading you down a path of inevitable self-destruction. Your evolution, both in the genetic and social contexts has failed you beyond the point of being able to save yourselves. We are not here to blame. We are not here to cast derision or judgment as truly the blame for this does not fall on your shoulders. We are simply here to help you?”  
“And how do you plan to help us?” The voice belonged to Chilean representative Louis Aechlaverra.  
“The specifics of our methods are too broad to completely describe in this session. But rest assured, the end result will be a stronger, more compassionate, less afraid, less selfish human condition that will be fully capable of meeting the challenges not just this world, but the universe as a whole will present to you. However, in order to do this, we will require your assistance.”  
“And how exactly might we ‘assist’ you in achieving these lofty ambitions of yours?” The cynicism caked in the voice of Russian delegate Sergei Karlov was palatable.  
“Nothing short of the complete and total capitulation of all global governments and other organizations of power. The part head of us is long and hard, and only with your complete trust and cooperation will we be able to achieve this.”  
Nobody listened after the first sentence. The buzz of over a hundred different languages preaching dissent was deafening.  
“Are you INSANE?”  
“This *is* an invasion?”  
“We’ll never give into you.”  
“How do you think we could trust such bald-faced lies?”  
“Every conqueror thinks themselves a liberator.”  
The outcry of rage did not cease for several minutes. All the while The Emissary stood unflinching, unblinking. Once the collective anger died down The Emissary began to speak again.  
“We have no interest in ruling. Your unfettered cooperation is simply a necessary step in the process. However, I recognize that at this time my offer is merely a formality you will accept. You will not accept because you can’t accept. Because your evolution has ingrained xenophobic defiance within you so deeply you collectively lack the capability to *not* resist. So resistance will follow, of this I am aware. It will fail. I say this not as a mockery of your considerable prowess of war or as a display of pride. I say this as a simple fact. You can not win. And even if you could, your reward would be annihilation and oblivion. Those who resist us will have to be neutralized. In the end, capitulation will occur and you will eventually be glad of this. There will be many who will capitulate of their own free will. The flaws of the human condition are not lost on humanity and many will be eager to find a way to correct those flaws.”  
“Those who resist shall know us as the Expungers, those who very existence is devoted to extracting, removing and deleting the flaws of the human condition. Those who do not will know simply, that we are here to help you.”  
Another raucous buzz consumed the auditorium, and again the Emissary waited to speak.  
“This is all I wish to say at this time. I will remain here so that when the time comes that you accept our help and are willing to capitulate, we will know. Until then, by all means continue to argue over how to maintain a global status quo you all know in your hearts to be fundamentally wrong.”  
The Emissary calmly walked off the dais to one of the walls, where he stood and watched as business returned to what could be called normal after his grim ultimatum.

April 5th, 2015  
At 12 Noon Greenwich Mountain Time the event occurred.  
The event, as it was called, occurred when every television, radio, computer monitor, tablet computer and smart phone on Earth simultaneously powered on and delivered a message to all peoples on earth. Miraculously the language used for each message changed dependent upon the language of the listener, but each message was the same. In mediums capable of video the artificial man who had addressed the UN General Assembly a day earlier, The Emissary appeared on the screen and issued a simple message.

“To the united populace of the planet Earth. Allow me to introduce myself. I am The Emissary. I represent the swarm of scavengers filling your skies as well as other beings that you would consider abnormal. Collectively you may refer to us as “The Expungers.” Our purpose here is simple. We wish to aid humanity in its greatest time of crisis. We wish to remove from you all the things that will lead you to self-destruction. Despite our appearance, which we understand to be a source of great concern, we are here to help you. This will be a time of change. We have requested of your United Nations the complete cooperation and capitulation of all global governments and other organizations of power. We have been refused. We do not wish to harm you. The scavengers who fill your skies have a singular purpose. You may resume your lives assured of the knowledge that the scavengers will not harm any who do not disturb their purpose. You may find their purpose to be offputting, but know you will only be enriched and rewarded for your cooperation. Beyond that, we collectively ask for your assistance in this time. Help us help you. Voice your cooperation to our cause, beseech your governments to capitulate. Convince your fellow man of the benevolence of our cause. However, please do not resort to violence. We are here to help even those who can not understand our goals, harming them is not conducive to our goals. We can not stress enough. We are not conquerors. We wish neither to enslave or destroy you. We simply require your cooperation to achieve our goals. We are The Expungers, and we are here to help you.

At 12:03 Greenwich Mountain Time, all communication devices on Earth resumed their normal activity. 

April 6th, 2015  
Thomas Petrie was a man taken by confusion and despair.  
Both confusion and despair were common enough in the fallout from the arrival of the Scavengers and the Event. And Petrie was no less affected by the events than any other person. But his despair came from a different source.  
“Dammit Beth, I’m glad you don’t have to see what this world has become.” Thomas whispered into his bathroom mirror as he went through the process of tying a necktie.  
Two weeks past, Thomas had lost his wife of 10 years to cancer. A week past, the world went insane and her wake was postponed. At the time he wondered if he would ever be able to put the dead to rest. Now he wondered if there was a point. Two weeks ago, Thomas took solace that his wife had ascended to the Kingdom of Heaven. He had been going to the same church in Twin Lake North Carolina since he was child. The church had been his friends, his family and the support structure that his way of life was built around. Thomas was hardly the most faithful or fervent of the flock, but he took comfort in the belief that his life had guidance and his suffering would be rewarded. But his faith could not explain away the swarms of insectoid creatures darkening his skies. His faith could not decipher the event. When he saw them, something broke inside of him. The idea that Heaven could co-exist with the scavengers, with the emissary, with whatever other horrors awaited them as this situation inevitably escalated. He looked skyward out the window. The scavengers flew high but he could still see them, like a flock of crows, a gigantic flock of crows. He didn’t know what their objective was and he hoped he would never find out. Petrie was terrified at the notion of leaving his house and exposing himself to them. But life had to go on, and he would not demure from the chance to see his wife one last time. Even if he wanted to, the social obligation demanded his presence. Everybody would be there, everybody who wasn’t too scared to leave the house for something like a wake, which Petrie was forced to admit felt like an empty ritual in light of everything.  
Petrie took one last look in the mirror, found nothing wanting in his appearance (excluding a pair of ugly black bags under his eyes) and slowly made his way to the front door. As he touched the knob he fought back tears, which had nothing to do with the swarms above his head, but rather the empty stillness of his home. Beth had fought ovarian cancers for years, the window of opportunity for her child bearing years closed before they could capitalize on it. His hopes of a family disintegrated as his wife’s health declined. Now there was nothing. No Beth, no children, no hope. Simply a silent home and a looming swarm.  
Petrie opened the door and hoped he could hold it together. He knew he hoped in vain.  
Petrie had arrived at the Silent Oaks funeral home early, as we expected. He was the one who had to greet the community that wished to see Beth off. He had to shake the hands, endure the hugs, simultaneously nod and try to smile as ersatz grief counseling was issued while giving counsel of his own. Petrie didn’t think he’d be able to do that last one. He had no counsel to give, not anymore. For their part the swarm had stayed in the skies, for now. The second thing Thomas did upon entering the funeral home, after speaking with his pastor and the funeral directors was to get the first look at what was left of his wife. The undertaker had done a good job keeping her presentable. He was afraid that with the delay of the services decay would have taken hold. He knew nothing of the undertaker’s trade, but felt like what he accomplished here was an impressive feat. He wished he could say she looked beautiful. But there was nothing beautiful about her stillness or her silence. She was emptiness. She was the void and Petrie could feel a part of him getting sucked in. His composure broke. In his weeping he couldn’t hear Mike and Evan, Beth’s twin brothers come up behind him.  
“How are you holding up?” Evan asked, hoping to get Thomas’ attention.  
“I’m ok.” Thomas attempted to bring the words through his mouth but they remained a lump in his chest. Even Thomas didn’t expect to be this affected. When she passed, Thomas could only feel a sort of shameful relief. His wife’s suffering had ended and her award awaited. But now her suffering felt pointless and her reward was nothing but a carrot on a stick. He took a few deep breaths and managed to choke out “Gimme a moment.”  
“Of course.” Evan was again the one to speak. Beth’s brothers were 20, not old enough to drink yet, both best friends, both unattached. Beth and Thomas used to joke that girls were intimidated by the notion of having to date both of them at the same time.  
Petrie wiped his eyes and turned to the twins.  
“I don’t know. It’s hitting me harder than I expected. I wasn’t expecting…” Petrie didn’t know how to finish his thought.  
“It’s ok man, there’s no wrong way to grieve.” It was Mike’s turn to speak. At least Petrie thought it was Mike. He knew the two of them their whole lives and still struggled to tell them apart. He thought after 20 years there would be a scar, a chipped tooth, a hairstyle variation or something to tell the two apart, but nothing.  
“I know.” Petrie responded quietly. Petrie really didn’t care whether or not there was a right or wrong way to grieve at the moment. His grief, and the expression thereof, was beyond his ability to control at this time.

Slowly more people trickled in. Beth’s parents, his parents, his older brother, cousins, aunts, uncles, various friends from the church and even a few people he didn’t recognize. He greeted them all. All in all about 70 people showed up. It was about half of what Thomas expected. Twin Lake was a small town, where everybody knew everybody else’s business and a wake was not a thing to be missed.  
The shuffling lines of people all took their turns gawking at the woman of the hour. For his part Thomas seated himself in the front row, having to engage in an unending series of conversations that all had the same general gist. It was just a bunch of people trying to make the world make sense again. And to Petrie’s mind, they all failed. It wasn’t their fault. You can’t make a chicken’s feathers blue just by talking it over and you can’t move past a senseless loss like that with a bunch of hollow platitudes.  
Beth wasn’t the only subject of discussion though.  
“Fucking liberals and their godless ways have brought the wrath of the almighty upon us.” Thomas recognized the voice behind him immediately. Ned Cline, Beth’s uncle and the kind of stupid motherfucker that made you dread Thanksgiving. Thomas had to listen to his bullshit on one too many holidays, he was the kind of old school fundamentalist that the pastors had to talk down. Everything that went wrong in the world was somehow the fault of whomever Ned was casting derision on. Many of his congregation would agree with his sentiments, but even they could seldom bring themselves to voice their approval with the raw toxicity of Ned Cline.  
“Way to be an embarrassment to every God fearing man on Earth Ned.” Thomas thought while trying to carry on what passed for conversation with one of his cousins. Thomas had butted heads with Ned before, but he simply was not in the mood to get into an argument during his wife’s wake.  
“I don’t know what all this stuff is Ned, but I somehow don’t think it’s the wrath of God.”  
“Well what the fuck is it then? Aliens? I don’t recall God creating no Aliens in the Bible. They call themselves the Expungers. They’ve come to relieve humanity of what’s ailing them. I’ll tell you what’s ailing humanity, All these liberal, godless motherfuckers who have set humanity on a path away from the lord. All these terrorist sympathizing pinko assholes who are selling this country to Al Quaida and The Devil. They’ve come to expunge all that bullshit and remake this work into the glorious empire of God it never shouldn’t have been.”  
Ned was raising his voice, Thomas was raising his blood pressure. He knew Ned wasn’t going to shut up unless somebody shut him up. It was time to get into a stupid argument at his wife’s goddamn wake.  
“Ned, if you’re going to suck Pat Robertson’s dick, please consider doing it somewhere else. This is my wife, your niece’s wake and frankly this is no place for your bullshit.” Thomas saw the gun at Ned’s hip. Thomas knew better than to fear the gun. Ned may have been a staunch supporter of the second amendment, but even he had the civility to not resort to gunplay to justify his unwelcome opinions.  
“All right Thomas. No need to get rude. What will come will come regardless of what I have to say about it.” Ned’s sudden passive-aggressive civility came as a bit of a shock to Thomas, he didn’t think Ned understood the idea of civility at all. Thomas was sated, if not exactly pleased that Ned intended to stick around. Thomas sat back down and continued his decidedly one-sided conversation with his cousin.  
“Sorry about that Dave, you were saying.”  
“I…I don’t even remember. Sorry.” Dave always had something of a frail constitution. Always the first to try avoid a confrontation at any means necessary. Petrie wouldn’t have been surprised if Dave bolted from the wake altogether. And sure enough he found his way to the door. Thomas couldn’t blame him, few people wanted to be at a wake to begin with and having a front row seat to stupid fundie theatre and the subsequent argument would be enough to sour anybody of the experience.  
“He’ll be alright. He just stepped out for some air. It’s stifling in here.” The voice belonged to his aunt, and Dave’s mother Sophie. The archetypal 60 something church lady, she was generally a calming presence and one of the nicest ladies you could imagine, even though if prodded in the right direction one would be surprised to find that her and Ned shared similar worldviews.  
“It’s ok.” Thomas didn’t really care if Dave was here or not. He barely acknowledged Dave’s presence when they were speaking.  
“Don’t worry about Beth dear. I know things are scary right now but it’s not the first time God has tested our faith and it won’t be the last. Nothing has really changed. Not those bugs in the sky, not that strange man in the suit on the tv. Just another test.”  
“I wish I could believe that.” Thomas had thought to respond in kind, but he didn’t really care to get into the pillow-fisted version of the philosophical “debate” he just had with Ned. Instead he simply nodded.

Then Dave erupted back into the parlor with a look of glazed over terror in his eyes  
“They’re coming down!” He screamed.  
The parlor buzzed with confusion.  
“What’s coming down?” Thomas’s voice was drowned out in a sea of similar questions.  
“DOWN! THEM! THE BUGS! THEY’RE COMING DOWN!”  
Thomas wasn’t entirely sure he understood Dave’s rant, but he didn’t have to once he heard the buzzing. The wings of a hundred giant insects descending from the heavens consumed the air. Not everybody picked up on what it was right away and those people followed their instincts and went outside to look.  
Panic gripped the wake.  
“Into the basement folks. Into the basement!” The funeral director barked the only order he could think of. He didn’t even stop to think if 70 people could fit into their basement as he began his dash downward. Several people followed him. Others bumped into each other trying to agree on a singular direction to move. Other stood or sat in shocked silence.  
Thomas was one of them.  
The flies had come. Why were the flies coming? Is this the end? Is this their ‘purpose’? Would he be joining Beth soon? Would he be joining her in Heaven, or in oblivion? The thoughts and the terror that accompanied them consumed him. He wasn’t even able to stand before the flies crashed through the wall, scattering wood and drywall everywhere, hitting several people with the debris, Thomas included.  
Blood dripped down Petrie’s forhead as he sat utterly paralyzed by terror. He just sat and watched, and in doing so saw what the flies were after.  
The flies were after Beth.  
One of the flies used its primitive bladed appendage to pluck his wife’s remains from her casket while others filled the room and blocked the stairway to the basement and others still flew away. Thomas hoped they would go away altogether but that wish went unfulfilled as he could hear another wall being destroyed. But all that was secondary in Thomas’ mind. Whatever these things were, they were stealing his wife, and he had to stop them. Thomas immediately thought of the chair he was sitting on. If he had to, he would bludgeon Beth’s remains from the claws of the monster who possessed her. All these thoughts manifested in a second, which was a second too late to act and the sound of a gunshot deafened him. The fly holding Beth collapsed, dropping Beth on the ground as several more gunshots were fired from immediately behind him.  
Thomas looked behind him and saw Ned unloading his pistol into the interlopers without a second of hesitation.  
“I AIN’T LETTING YOU GODLESS MOTHERFUCKERS DEFILE THE REMAINS OF A GOOD GODLY WOMAN!” Ned screamed as he continued bulls eyeing the giant mechanical insects. Thomas feared to stand up now, if only because Ned was directly behind him and he didn’t want to get shot in the back of the head. Thomas looked around to find that the insects had infested the funeral homes and driven the wakegoers to the only place they could flee, outside.  
Unfortunately Ned’s act of defiance was short lived as a trio of the scavengers quickly converged upon him, one of them piercing him straight through the heart with one of its limbs. It then grabbed Ned’s corpse and began to fly away. Much to Thomas’ dismay, another fly had picked Beth up off the ground. Thomas thought briefly back to the chair idea, but quickly abandoned it when he realized there was no way he would survive such an action. Realizing his wife and Ned were gone, Thomas did the only thing he could do, run like hell to the entrance.  
“May angels sing thee to they rest you crazy bastard.” Petrie briefly eulogized Ned under his breath as he fled to the door.  
Upon arriving outside Thomas found the remainder of the wakegoers, minus a few cars and the people they belonged to, and a surprising lack of insect monsters.  
“Thomas are you alright?” Pastor Cedric was the first to inquire to Thomas’ state of mind. “For Heaven’s sake man, why didn’t you run?”  
Thomas couldn’t answer him. He had no answers. No answers to anything. He just saw a swarm of otherworldly insect robot monsters steal his wife and kill his uncle-in-law. There was no answer. He somehow felt every emotion a human was capable of feeling simultaneously. Even a trace amount of joy. His heroics aside, Thomas really disliked Ned.  
“Alright everybody, quick while those things are distracted, let’s get the hell out of here!” The funeral director yelled to try to be heard above the flittering wings, and everybody was willing to oblige him. Thomas was able to let fear take the wheel long enough to make his way to his car.  
As Thomas Petrie drove away from the funeral, he saw the flies make their way skyward once more, with several bodies in their possession.  
This observation did not help anything make sense. Neither did the potential concussion.

April 10th, 2015

My name is Ray Johnson. I am a 30 year old man originally from Baltimore Maryland. I currently reside in Langston California, a suburb of San Diego. I work in a tech consultation firm in the city. I am an upstanding member of my city. I am a member of the PTA, the neighborhood watch and the city council. On August 14 2011 I married my wife Eliza. Eliza is 3 years older than me with 2 children from a previous relationship, Gary, who is in 4th grade and Eric, who is in 2nd grade. Both children are as healthy and well adjusted as can be expected given the circumstances. Despite being a stepfather, both children look up to me as if they were their real father, who is out of the picture. This story will begin with a little league game, the first played during this season, a week later than it should have been due to panic concerning the arrival of the scavengers and the expungers. Initially some hid in their homes, others fled to a nearby shelter. I was integral to convincing them to resume their daily lives despite these times of desperate upheaval. Today represents a triumph of the human spirit against the unknown, as the simple act of sitting in bleachers under the open sky, under the threat of the swarms of scavengers and enjoying the act of their children engaging in one of the first acts of organized play in their short lives. I am acting as home plate Umpire today.  
“Strike Three.” My voice is loud enough to be heard over the cheering crowds. Loud enough to assure that the batter heard me. The batter is my eldest stepson. He is not happy. I am not playing favorites. The pitch I called him out on was within ¾ of an inch of the strike zone I established for him at the beginning of the game. It is his third strikeout today. He is discouraged. Should I have time, I will assist him with his swing during the weekend.  
Suddenly I hear a distressed buzz coming from the crowd. I recognize it as being distinctly different from the cheers I am accustomed to hearing. I can faintly hear the sound of wings in the wind. I look upward. The scavengers are descending again. But their goal appears to be at least 2 miles away, The White Lake Cemetery from my estimation. Suddenly the first and third plate umpires are running up to me.  
“Ray, we’ve got to suspend the game.” The voice belonged to Jack DeLacey, a teacher at Gary’s elementary school. He was one of the first to go along with my plan to resume daily life as soon as possible. But I could tell he had misgivings.  
“Those damn things are coming down again. Who knows what they are after this time?” That voiced belonged to Rick Hemmenmyer, a local barber and father to 6 children. Rick was not wholly at ease with my plan, but conceded that we could not remain hidden forever, as no plan had been established to return to normality and without the flow of business we would simply starve ourselves out.  
“Relax, the news reports all say that the scavengers are only going after dead bodies. They’ve been hitting up cemeteries and funeral homes all over the country, possibly the world. I’m not a fan of what they’re going to do to White Lake, but there isn’t much we can do about it without pissing them off.”  
“Where’s the government? Where are the damn police? Why aren’t they defending those areas if they know those bugs are going to be going after them?” Rick was starting to panic. Rick was the kind of person who sincerely believed in the sanctity of the dead, and the kind of person to be deeply upset about the scavenger’s purpose.  
“Rick, the police are out here.” I motion to the outfield fences, where no fewer than a half dozen men in blue where patrolling the perimeter. “The dead are important, but the living are a priority, you know that. You’ve been following the news, you also know that the scavengers only attack people who try to stop them.”  
“And that cocksucker emissary of theirs claims they’re not invaders. Sure, give ‘em what they want and they’ll go away. Apparently they want to defile our dearly departed and they won’t even tell us why and we can’t do a damn thing about it. Where the hell is the army?”  
“The army is in standby much like the police. At this time the government does not want to escalate confrontation with The Expungers any more than necessary. I have to believe they are formulating ways to efficiently combat The Scavengers as we speak.”  
I knew the government was handing out bloating military contracts to any contractor with enough engineers to throw at the problem. It’s just how this country deals with this kind of thing.  
“My concern is that the government is worrying too much about a bunch of bodies in the ground and not spending enough time dealing with the issues at hand. The problems we had before the expungers arrived haven’t suddenly vanished just because of their presence.” I was about to continue with this train of though before Jack interrupted me.  
“Stop, stop with this right now. We’re in the middle of a game, we really don’t need to talk politics.  
I am forced to agree.  
“Yeah, nobody wants to hear this. Get the next batter up to the plate. Don’t worry about the flies. They didn’t come here to attack a bunch of kids playing baseball.”

“Ray, her parents have already taken her home. Half the team is gone. We don’t really have a choice at this point.”  
I felt dismayed by this display of misplaced fear.  
“I guess so. Alright guys call it, we’ll try again tomorrow.”  
“I don’t think we’re going to be able to talk them out of their homes in just a day.”  
“I’ll pay some visits to their homes. I’ll reassure them. I don’t know if I can reach them all but they’ll have to see that hiding isn’t the answer eventually.  
“What makes you so sure? Maybe hiding ‘is’ the answer. A lot of people feel like this situation is going to get worse before it gets better.”  
“Ok, let’s look at it this way. We know they’re hitting up graveyards. We know they’re hitting up cemeteries. But there have been no reports of them attacking hospitals. Hospitals have morgues. Hospitals have dead bodies, more so than most funeral homes. Did you ever stop to think why that is? We don’t *need* cemeteries. We don’t really *need* funeral homes. We do need hospitals. They’re not trying to attack our infrastructure. They’re leaving the hospitals up intentionally. Why would they do that if there wasn’t at least a trace of sincerity to their words?”  
“You’re reading way too much into this Ray. I don’t know why you’re giving that terrorist’s words any kind of benefit of the doubt. I mean really, how the hell is stealing our dead “helping” us?”  
“We don’t know yet. We can’t know. This is beyond us.”  
“When somebody is robbing your graves, you don’t stop and ask ‘how is he trying to help us.’ Come on Ray, you know better.”  
I can’t help but think; I do know better. But I demure for now.  
“No I guess not. I don’t know man. I’m trying to find the sun in this situation. I mean if we can’t stop them, is hoping that they’re on our side all that wrong?”  
“Yes Ray, it is. You’re the one who advocated courage in the face of adversity. Now you’re talking coward talk.”  
“I guess I am.” Cowardly words? Brave words? Why does it matter if they’re the right words. But now is not time for that. “Regardless, I gotta put on the brave face and try to talk these folk back out of their homes.”  
“Well I think you have to talk somebody else out of something first.” Jack motioned behind me, where I saw Eliza running up to me.  
“What is taking so long Ray?” She sounded concerned. It didn’t surprise me. She could be a brave woman. But she put her children’s safety first.  
“We were just leaving.”  
“Well hurry up. I got the boys in the car and I’d like to get out of here before that swarm of flying assholes decides to take a swing this way.”  
“We have nothing they want.”  
“How do you know what they want? Today it’s our dead. Tomorrow it’s our children.”  
I could tell that rationale would not prevail this day.  
“Alright, let’s get out of here. I won’t be able to stick around when we get home though. I have to calm the troops down before they all turn their homes into bunkers.”  
“I don’t know how you can be so calm about this. Shit, I knew having this game was a mistake.”  
“No it wasn’t. Nobody was hurt. Nobody was threatened. We can’t hide from a problem like this. We can’t not live our lives.”  
“I don’t want to talk about it right now. Right now I want to get the hell out of here.”  
“All right. Gentlemen, hopefully we will be able to talk more later.”  
“Hopefully there will be a later for us to talk.”  
As we left the now empty ballpark, I couldn’t help but find the silence less than ideal.

Fruitless.  
Fruitless is the only word I could describe my trip to the homes of half a dozen different families who decided to pull their children from the game as soon as the swarm started to stir. They were afraid. Too afraid to reason. Too afraid to see the forest for the trees. They see the swarm as monstrous and unfortunately I have little evidence that will dissuade them from this point of view. We knew the swarm would not be content to roam the skies when we agreed to start the season. We knew that in all likelihood this was only the beginning. We knew there was a certain degree of risk involved with the simple act of resuming our lives in these circumstances. And yet, when it became real, when they saw the swarm descend. There was only fear. There was only the feeling that mistakes were made and they would not be made again. I don’t know how long it will be before they can swallow their fear and try again. I hope it will be soon.

Eliza was at her computer when I returned.  
“How did it go?” Eliza voiced genuine interest and concern. I know her. She wants to be brave. Were she alone she could stare down the swarm herself.  
“Not as well as I would have hoped.”  
“You couldn’t have expected to go any other way.”  
“No. I didn’t. But I had to try.”  
Eliza continued whatever it was she was doing on her computer.  
“This Expunger business is bringing out the crazies.” I look over her should and realize that she has been reading news sites.  
“How so?”  
“Apparently there’s been reports about crazy vigilante activity all over the country. Some guys busting up meth labs in Sun Valley. There was an unmanned drug runner vessel off the shore of LA with something like 2 million in coke just floating out there. Coast guard said there was a lot of blood but no bodies. They presumed whoever did it threw the bodies overboard.”  
“Maybe the swarm got them.”  
“Wow, maybe. You think those flies actually stopped graverobbing long enough to break up a smuggling ring? Great, there are already pro-expunger cults popping up here and there. A couple of tea party nutjobs are claiming that the expungers are trying to start some sort of zombie apocalypse.” Elize paused for a moment. “You know now that I’ve said it out loud, it’s not really any less crazy than any other theory I can come with.”  
I remain silent. Eliza turns back to her computer and clicks on a link. I can see the link labeled ‘Incredible Woman Fends off ATM Robber.’  
I could see Eliza shiver as she watched the video.  
It began as you would expect such a video to begin, a woman walks up to an ATM at night and a man follows her. The man brandishes a firearm and threatens her. What came next defied comprehension. The woman didn’t cower, didn’t even flinch. She just turned around and leveled her assailant with a haymaker. Even though the video was not in a well lit area it was obvious it was not just a regular punch. The man’s head was spun almost 180 degrees, breaking his neck and killing him instantly. The woman then turned her back to the mangled corpse and proceeded to calmly continue her transaction. But the video continued. As she finished her transaction the familiar sound of innumerable metallic wings could be heard. The swarm arrived and carried off the remains of the man, leaving the woman completely untouched. The woman completely ignored the presence of the swarm, her calm bordered on utterly unbelievable.  
Eliza’s calm however, was nowhere to be found.  
“That has to be fake. There’s no way somebody could hit a person that hard with their bare hands. That’s inhuman.”  
“She could be one of them. We already know there is one of them that can pass for human.”  
“More of them…do they think…do you think they walk among us?”  
“I would not be surprised.”

My name is Ray Johnson and I am a lie.

April 11th

Artur Krischencov was here on business.  
“Here” in this situation was a parking garage in a derelict part of Smolensk at 2AM. And “business” in this situation involved a transfer of live goods.  
Artur Krischencov was objectively, not a good person.  
At the moment, Artur was also a very impatient man. Tonight there would be a transfer of 5 heads for the agreed upon price of 250,000 rubles per head. It was Artur’s job to oversee the exchange and handle the money. It was Evgeny and Igor’s job to make sure nobody fucked with him.  
“Maybe I’ll take one of em for a ride before we drop ‘em off eh.”  
Every damn time. Every damn time Evgeny said this.  
“You break it, you bought it.” Artur was not being glib.  
“You never let me have any fun Artur.”  
“No I don’t. Your “fun” takes Rubles out of our wallet. Your “fun” will piss off Vladimir. We can’t afford your fucking “fun” Evgeny. So keep it in your goddamn pants and try to show some fucking professionalism for once in your miserable life.” Artur was not nearly drunk enough to put up with Evgeny’s shit. At least Igor was agreeable. Mainly Igor was agreeable because he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut. But Artur could tell Igor was rattled. This stupid expunger talk had him on edge. The magnitude of the situation was mostly lost on Artur. Artur had long since made peace with the fact that his life was liable to end violently and the journey to said end was bound to be miserable. Swarms of flying mechanical assholes didn’t change that much.  
Igor paced to the edge of the level of the garage they were on and looked skyward.  
“Yes Igor, they are still there.” Artur said curtly.  
“I don’t get it. They don’t eat, they don’t sleep. They come down and steal our dead. That’s all they do. Why the hell do they do that?”  
Oh great, now Igor decided to be chatty.  
“I don’t fucking know Igor. I didn’t build the damn things. Worry about what we’re doing ok?”  
“Where the fuck are they?” Evgeny was starting to get impatient. “I’d like to get to bed sometime tonight.”  
“Why? Eager to go home and fuck your hag?” Artur had no idea why he decided to engage Evgeny. He must have been more bored than he realized.  
“Well you won’t let me touch the damn merchandise. I gotta get me some somewhere. Ingrid is a last resort but it’s something.”  
“Have you ever considered your hand?”  
“Have you ever considered getting yourself some real pussy?”  
“I got better things to do with my time.”  
“Like what, blowing your share up your nose? That shit’ll rot your brain.”  
Artur wondered why Evgeny cared. It’s not like he had a brain to rot anyway.  
“Good. Then I can think fucking Ingrid is a good idea.”  
“You ain’t need a working brain for that, just a functioning pair.”  
Artur ignored that last comment as he saw headlights. Only one explanation for that, the inventory had arrived.  
The vehicle was a featureless white van, as was their transport. The transfer was an easy enough process. Erik and Stepen unload the cargo. Artur inspected the cargo for obvious problems. Money is exchanged. Artur, Evgeny, and Igor load the merchandise into their white van and drive it to their warehouse where Vladimir will be waiting. Erik and Stepen were smart about this. They knew not to bullshit. They knew how to make sure the cargo listened without messing them up, and they knew not to take free samples. Simple, easy. There were no cops around, and even if there were they would be on Vlad’s take. Worst case scenario they’d have to kick something into the officer’s wallet. It never came up.  
The van drove past the trio and pulled into a parking. As expected Erik and Stepen came out of the driver and passenger side doors respectively.  
“Erik, Stepen. You get the goods.” Artur did the talking.  
“We wouldn’t have come if we didn’t.” As usual Erik took the lead. Stepen was just there for backup, like Evgeny and Igor.  
“Did you get actual goods or did you scrap crack addicts out of the gutter.”  
“No no, they’re good. They’re good. Young too. Not a track on them. Of course Vlad’ll probably fix that.”  
“Too expensive. These days it’s just the lash. Ok, enough chitchat. Let’s see what bullshit you’re trying to dump on us this time.”

The 5 men took their pieces out as Erik unlocked the back of the van. As he opened it, Artur saw exactly was he was hoping for. 5 girls, none of them looked to be over 24. Most of them looked scared out of their minds, but not scarred, which was good. Scarring brings the price down. They just looked to be girls who were just a little too trusting, or that simply found themselves in the wrong place and the wrong time. Maybe they were transients. Maybe they had futures. Artur liked the ones who had futures. He was just the sort of the asshole who took pleasure in the knowledge that he was dragging somebody who had more than him down to his level, and worse. Of course, in Artur’s mind, these girls were about to serve the most noble cause of all…putting money in Artur’s pocket.  
The first four who came out looked appropriately torn up. They knew their lives were over as they knew it. They looked broken inside. They didn’t look like they were going to run. Artur was pleased. Occasionally one of the girls would decide they’d rather die free than live hard. Artur couldn’t honestly blame them knowing what was coming, it was generally all he could do to oblige her as a lesson to the others and argue with the driver over whose pocket the loss should come out of.  
Much to Artur’s chagrin, the 5th girl looked like she could be trouble. Wheras the others were thouroughly cowed, there was a looked of calm defiance. She stopped briefly to assess her surroundings as she got ready to leave the vehicle. He hoped Erik would just have to pistol whip her to get her to settle down. He really didn’t want to explain a 250,000 ruble loss to Vladimir. He knew the price of doing business, but his temper made him a real cocksucker in situations like this. On the plus side, she was clearly the pick of the litter. Her platinum blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, flawless complexion and perfectly assembled physiology made her ideal. They might be able to get double for her what they’ll get for the others. If she behaves.  
She was not going to behave.  
Before Artur could even process what was happening, the girl swung her left hand back and backhanded Erik. For a split second Artur internally laughed at the futility of her resistance, until he saw that the backhand knocked Erik up into the air and dropped him 5 feet away. Laughter melted into panic when he looked at Erik’s prone form and saw a puddle of cranial viscera where Erik’s head used to be.  
Unsurprisingly Igor fired the first shot. Stepen, Evgeny and Artur followed immediately after. Each unloaded into the blonde woman and didn’t stop until they had exhausted their clips. Artur looked down at the woman, who was slumped over in a sitting position with the van propping up her back and noticed that there was no blood.  
The woman stood up and the 4 men recoiled in horror as they saw that their bullets had all the effect of pushing ones finger lightly into a wad of dough. They didn’t have the opportunity of seeing even the cosmetic damage they had inflicted being to heal as the woman lunged forward, putting her arm clear through Evgeny’s chest. Stepen backpedaled as he reloaded, trying to get another shot in on the woman, but instead found his skull caved in by the woman’s fist.  
Artur and Igor realized that fighting this ‘thing’ was futile and both attempted to run. Unfortunately the woman was as fast as she was strong. She liberated Stepan’s gun from his corpse and fired a single shot into Artur’s leg and a second shot, blowing Igor’s brains out from 30 yards away.  
Even with the adrenaline from the fight-or-flight situation Artur found himself in, Artur could only bring himself to dash in a broken limp away from the situation. He briefly contemplated tossing himself over the retaining barrier and taking his chances with gravity, but the woman had already caught up to him and had pinned him down.  
“You are trying to take us somewhere, where?”  
Artur always knew he was going to die violently. Artur never imagined he would die like this.  
“Fuck you!” Artur had no idea where his defiance had come from. He knew he was fucked and didn’t want to imagine what this woman would do to him to get her answer.  
She broke 3 of his fingers and asked again.  
“…fuu…ck….you.”  
Despite his defiance, Artur was in no shape to put up resistance. The woman grabbed his arm and contorted it in such a way that she could easily break it. She put on the slightest amount of pressure to demonstrate this and what was left of Artur’s resilience melted.  
“248 Ilveska Road.”  
“Thank you.” The woman replied as she put Artur out of his misery.  
The woman liberated the suitcase containing 1,250,000 rubles from Artur’s cold, dead hands as she again scanned the area. Of the other 4 women, 3 of them had run off, and one of them was hiding from behind a parked vehicle. She pensively emerged, starring at the woman in awe.  
“You’re one of them aren’t you?” The woman was scared but continued to advance slowly towards her savior.  
“I am one of the ones referred to as an Expunger, yes. Specifically I am a Silencer. My purpose is to remove wholly deleterious elements from the human condition. Such as these broken specimens of the human condition who have degenerated into dealing in flesh. They no longer have a place in humanity the way they are.”  
“I heard you on the radio. You’re here to help us.”  
“Yes.” The silencer replied.  
“Do you have a name, I mean do I just call you ‘Silencer’ or…”  
“Anya will suffice. What is your name?”  
“Eva. I had a question.”  
“Yes?”  
“How can I be like you?”  
“Why do you want to be like me when you already like you?”  
Eva suddenly became passionate.  
“Because being like me sucks! I’m powerless. I’m been getting used and abused my whole fucking life and I’ve never had the power to fend off my attackers. I saw what you did just now and I’ve been dreaming of doing it for my whole life! It’s all I’ve ever wanted to be able to do what you just did. And I can’t, because I’m too fucking weak! You’re like, one of those cyborg things right? Can you do that? Can you make me like you? Can you make me into something powerful? Into something not afraid?”  
“I know what you ask of me, and I am afraid I can not do it. However know that when the world capitulates to us, when you as a species truly allow us to help you all, you will become something that transcends fear and power as you know it.”  
Eva could not contain her disappointment.  
“I guess that will have to do.”  
“There is something you can to help us though.”  
“What can I possibly do to help you?”  
“When you return to whence you came, advocate for us. Let those who will listen know of our purpose and our genuine desire to help you. Let them know what happened here, let them know this is only the beginning and to those who capitulate and allow us to help them, only good things will come.”  
“I don’t have anywhere to return to. I had nothing. I was a street urchin. I have no life to speak of.”  
Anya handed her the briefcase.  
“This should help you find your way.” She made her way to Erik’s corpse and fished his keys out of his pocket. “Go to a place and start a life anew. And when you get there, let them know. My work is not finished here tonight. The scavengers will come to claim these men momentarily. Now is a good time to leave.”  
“Thank you…for everything.” As the sound of metallic wings grew louder, Eva fled into the van that was once her prison and drove off.  
Anya fished the keys from Artur’s corpse and was in the second van by the time the scavengers arrived. Once they had performed their duty Anya set out to pay the warehouse on Ilveska road a little visit.

April 12th

Thomas Petrie had no idea how he managed to get through the week.  
He was somehow able to scrape himself out of bed every morning and drag the leaden weight of his body through the motions of the day. He put on his clothes. He dragged himself into the shower. He shoveled grub into his maw. He got in his car and was somehow able to drive to work without steering himself into oncoming traffic. He hoped work would take his mind off of what he experienced, but it was no use. Two years ago he was forced to accept that Beth wouldn’t be able to bear children. He would never be able to truly continue his legacy with his wife. It was hard, but he was eventually able to accept that. So long as he had Beth, he could cope, he could steel himself against the cruelty reality offered him. A year ago when Beth’s treatments started to fail and the cancer grew more aggressive he was forced to accept the reality that he may have to face the future without Beth. He was forced to accept that death may part them entirely too soon for reasons that existed beyond his control or even his comprehension. He wasn’t sure he could accept the reality that was presented to him and as she faded he felt as though the only thing keeping him alive was that it was not actually possible to just drop dead form despair. As he took care of Beth to the best of his abilities in her final weeks, so too did their family have to take care of him. He could barely remember to bathe, eat, or even sleep without somebody prodding him. At the moment those days were a haze of malaise to Petrie. He could only remember the solitary comfort afforded him. The notion that was reinforced in him since the day he was born. God has a plan for him and Beth and all those who are born. Every seemingly arbitrary cruelty was simply a facet of his design that he, as a flawed mortal, could not hope to comprehend. And that ultimately, when it was all over they would be reunited in the Kingdom of Heaven. Petrie had taken the notion for granted through his developmental years, but as his wife was taken by the illness, it was the only straw he could grasp.  
Then the flies came and took even that away from him.  
What God would send such a swarm to defile the dead? If anything they seemed a biblical plague from the Old Testament, but of what sin was Beth guilty to deserve to be punished so even after death? And the swarm, they claimed all, regardless of gender, race, creed, spiritual belief, political borders or any other of the numerous ways humankind divided itself. Was that a message in and of itself? Were we ‘all’ guilty? Or do these things exist beyond the demesne and dominion of any Earthly God.  
Both possibilities were evenly terrifying to Thomas. Both severed him from the reunion he so desperately craved. Both were dissatisfied with his suffering and felt the need to further punish him for wrongs he could not account for. Both took whatever hope remained in life and callously crushed it beneath their heels.  
It was 10:30 on a Sunday and Thomas Petrie couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed.  
He had heard the plan was to devote The Sunday service to the passing of Ned Cline. Nobody really wanted to hold a proper funeral out of the fear that the swarm would strike again and it wasn’t like they had a body anyway. But they didn’t feel right about disregarding the passing of a man who had been a member of their congregation for his entire 57 year life. Especially not one who went out, in the minds of the people he had talked to about it, a hero who defiantly fought the swarm while others fled. For his part, Thomas Petrie wanted no part of any services to that man. He didn’t want to hear the same people in the congregation who regularly chastised Ned’s extremist points of view demure in the face of death and talk about what a great man he was. He didn’t want to hear the members of the congregation who were inclined to back Ned up acting justified and validated. He didn’t want to hear their lunacy being coddled out of deference to the dead. Despite the fact that his final act on the earth was an attempt to save his wife’s remains, he could not bring himself to like a single damn thing about that old psychopath. There wouldn’t be much to say about Beth. That service was already held. She was in the past. She no longer mattered. The goodbyes were uttered. The tears were shed. It was Ned’s time. Today was Ned’s time and Thomas wanted nothing to do with it.  
And yet somebody was knocking on his door like a person who wasn’t listening to a word of his inner monologue. Thomas pulled the blankets over his head like a child and waited for the interloper to go away.  
Then he heard a faint *click*.  
“Fuck, why did Beth give Evan and Mike keys?” Thomas thought to himself as he heard one of them call his name from his living room. He wasn’t getting up to meet him though. He didn’t feel like talking to him or anybody else. Maybe he’ll just assume he walked to the damn church or something.  
No such luck, whichever one it was walked right into his bedroom.  
“You’re not even out of bed yet?”  
“Why are you here?”  
“Pastor Richards suspected you might be need a little motivation to get to the service today.”  
“I know how to get to the Church. I also know how not to get to the church.”

“Thou shalt observe and keep holy thy…”  
“We all miss services every now and then, I think there’s some wiggle room” And even if there wasn’t, Thomas didn’t particularly care at the moment.  
“There’s going to be kind of an impromptu service for…”  
“Ned yeah, I know. I’m not sure why you think I would consider that incentive.”  
“He died trying to save your wife.”  
“He died angry and firing a gun. Even if I did want to interpret his actions as heroic, that would put Ned Cline’s lifetime total at 1 Heroic and worthwhile act and approximately 712 trillion intolerant, ignorant, bullshit acts. That is not a man whose life I want to celebrate. That is a man whose death I want to celebrate.”  
“He was still our brother.”  
“He was our uncle. Really he wasn’t even my uncle. He was my uncle-in-law which I am not even certain is a thing.”  
“Ok, ok, fine. You don’t like Ned. Honestly neither do I, neither does Mike (“Ok, so I’m talking to Evan” Thomas finally learned) neither did most of the people of the congregation except for the ones who feel like they have to like everybody. But I really don’t to hear 3 hours of half the congregation calling you an ingrate for not showing up.”  
“Neither do I, but I won’t be there. So I win. If they don’t like it, fuck ‘em””  
“Pastor Richards said he wanted to talk to you personally today. He sent me because he’s busy doing his thing. Given how much support he, and our community have offered you and Beth during your times of troubles it would be both proper and smart to give him the benefit of the doubt, get out of bed and pay him a visit.”  
“Guilt tripping me Evan? You know we’re not Catholic.”  
“Come on, it’s what Beth would want.”  
“Beth would want to be not dead of ovarian cancer and in the clutches of alien robot insect…things. Beth hasn’t been getting her way lately.”  
“Do you want to be the guy who lets her down.”  
“I already let her down. Repeatedly.”  
“This is why you need to talk to Pastor Richards.”  
Much to Thomas’ chagrin, he had to admit that Evan had a point.  
“All right, all right, fuck. I’ll go. But I’m not getting dressed up.”  
“You can go in your pajamas for all we care really.”  
“I’m tempted. Also, I’m not listening to 3 consecutive words of praise for that jackass Ned.”  
“Please don’t start fights in the Church Thomas.”  
“You praise Ned in my presence; you’re the one starting the fight. That cocksucker and the views he espoused and how he espoused them are the reason that all congenial discourse between the faithful and the secular have disintegrated into hostility.”  
“Maybe so, but not today, alright. People will be back to bitching out Ned and people like him next week.”  
“I can hardly wait.” Thomas threw his covers off. “Alright Evan, amscray and let me get dressed. I’ll be there probably a little after 11.”  
“It’s almost 10:45 now. Don’t you need to shower?”  
Thomas didn’t even respond.  
“Alright, alright, I just won’t stand downwind. I’ll see you there.”  
Thomas just shooed him off as he walked to his closet.  
After Evan left, Thomas seriously thought of just going back to bed and dealing with the consequences later. As he stared into the abyss of his closet for what felt like several empty, pointless minutes he eventually decided that, even with things being what they were, he was still the kind of person who kept his word. He pulled his clothes out of the closet and threw them on the bed. Then he just looked at them for a moment, as if he couldn’t tell what they were for. At that moment, the various idiosyncrasies of human society seemed incredibly peculiar and incredibly off-putting to him.  
“So I’m wearing slacks instead of pajama bottoms, big deal.” He thought as he took his pajama bottoms off. “We’re all eventually condemned to be stolen but giant robot insects to serve some horrific master plan anyway.” Once his pants were on he gazed at his shirt incredulously.  
“Oh great, now I’m wearing a button up semi-casual shirt instead of a pajama top. Surely that will save us from the apocalyptic machinery coming to destroy us all.” Thomas verbalized that last thought as he complete his cloth transformation.  
After decided that yes, he would deign to brush his teeth on this day, Thomas walked out the door to attend a social obligation he could only describe as ‘miserable.’ 

The Church.  
Once it was a source of solace and community for Thomas Petrie, now it just felt like a ball and chain. A judging eye that never turned inward. What precisely was it to them if he decided against going? If he decided that he was not in the mood to mourn a man he could say he legitimately hated, who were they to say otherwise? He once felt like they were his extended families. Brothers of other mothers, sisters of differing parentage. The parents, aunts, uncle, grandmothers and grandfather he had but was always grateful for more. The Church was where he met Beth. It was how he grew up with Beth. It was where he married Beth. Even when he couldn’t wholly feel the message, he never failed to feel the love. Until today. Until they apparently collectively decided to chide him for not mourning the black sheep. Maybe he thought too much of it. Maybe he put thoughts in the heads of the people whom he had come to trust all of his life. But regardless of why he was here, he was here and it was time to make the best of it.  
“In 1965 at the age of 18 Ned Cline joined the United States army and served his country in the Viet…”  
Petrie closed the door to the chapel and contented himself to wait out Pastor Richards’ account of Ned’s “glorious” life. He was afraid that this was likely going to be the situation. A long-winded whitewashed account of Ned’s life. Never mind that Ned spent the rest of his days defending his involvement in the war, as well as American intervention in other global conflicts despite commandments to the contrary but reiterating the phrase “The only man is a God-fearing man, killing those damn viet-cong gooks was acceptable in the eyes of God since after, they weren’t really human.” This is something Ned Cline said. At Thanksgiving. Ned Cline was an asshole of the highest order and it took a severely ingrained sense of decorum to not busting into the chapel and say as much. So Thomas contented himself to wait outside until it was over.  
It took twenty minutes. The idea that there was enough good to Ned’s life to fill twenty minutes astonished Thomas. It was a testament to Pastor Richard’s ability to see the good in people, even people like Ned. Thomas had taken towards listening in every few minutes so he could tell when Richards was done. And when he was, he entered the assembly proper and hoped nobody noticed his hovering.  
“Was starting to think you weren’t going to come in.” The voice belonged to Estelle, Beth’s mother, sister to Ned.  
“You heard me lingering.”  
“I think everybody heard it darling. Come know, would it have killed you to listen to somebody say something nice about Ned for once in his life.” Estelle generally didn’t defend Ned beyond “He is still my brother.” But it didn’t surprise Thomas that Estelle would feel this way. It also didn’t particularly concern him.  
“I wasn’t willing to find out.” Thomas’s voice was droning and cold.  
“Come now Thomas, I know you’re better than that. I know you never got along with Ned but I’d think you’d know enough to show some decorum.”  
“Like he showed decorum at Beth’s funeral by brining in a gun and ranting about the Kingdom of God or whatever lunacy happened to be on his mind that day?”  
“That’s just his way. You weren’t going to change him.”  
“Yeah, and it’s my way not to sit and twiddle my thumbs while everybody pretends that Ned was a good and godly man. And Estelle, you aren’t about to change that about me.”  
It hurt Thomas to speak to Estelle like this. Estelle had always thought highly of him and while he was married to Beth, he felt her not be the dreaded ‘mother-in-law’ but rather as a second maternal figure. Unfortunately between her unflinching adherence to tradition and Thomas’s increasing unwillingness to suffer people gladly, the confrontation was inevitable.  
“It’s ok Thomas. I know, I know. What you went through was something nobody should have to go through. Just forget I said anything ok.” Estelle hugged him and Thomas remembered why he thought highly of this woman. Even though she lost her daughter, she didn’t close herself away, she didn’t think only about how it affected her. Thomas felt momentarily ashamed.  
“Sorry.”  
“It’s ok, just don’t go picking fights today alright?”  
“I’ll try.”  
Once he was able to free himself from his mother-in-law’s clinch he made his way to Pastor Richards. He had come here today out of deference to his wishes and if Pastor Richards wished to talk to him, then the sooner they could get it out of the way, the better.  
“Sorry I had to miss the sermon today.”  
“Honestly I expected nothing less.” Pastor Richards was even minded as always. “It can be difficult to put aside such feelings.”  
“I know it’s not the most appropriate time to say it. But I hated that man.”

“And there are many who share your point of view. There are some who serve the Lord, and there are some who simply wish to wield him. Ned was a warrior to the end. Sometimes I fear there are too many like him in this day and age.”  
“You wanted to speak to me?”  
“Yes Thomas, very much so. However, now is not the best time. I feel as though this conversation should be something that should be held in private. I’d ask you to wait until after the service ends. And remember Thomas, these are your people, your neighbors, your friends. They are the same people who have loved and supported you your entire life. Try not to be too hard on them.”  
“I’ll try.”  
“Good, now try to engage them for awhile. It may help.”  
Thomas doubted it. He didn’t know what to say anymore. He didn’t want to talk about Beth anymore. He never wanted to talk about Ned. He had no head for the various popular culture events that made the soft talk rounds. He was ashamed to admit that hearing about their kids only made him angry. So instead of making a feeble attempt to engage people he felt he could no longer relate to, Thomas simply took a seat and hoped that nobody would attempt to talk to him.  
Unfortunately this was not to be.  
“Look who finally decided to show up.” Evan decided to take a seat next to him.  
“I told you I was coming didn’t I?”  
“Wait, what?”  
Thomas looked at Evan’s clothes and realized they didn’t look right.  
“Oh right, sorry Mike.”  
“No problem. Evan was at your place earlier?”  
“Yeah. You didn’t know.”  
“I knew he vanished for a bit, but it’s not like we’re attached at the hip.”  
“Yeah, I guess Richards sent him to get me out of bed.”  
“You weren’t planning on coming?”  
“Not really.”  
“The Ned thing?”  
“Among other things.”  
“It’s weird how he knew though.”  
“I swear he can read our minds sometimes.” It wasn’t the first time that Richards’ ability to intuit the minds of his flock proved eerie. But Thomas guessed that his absenteeism wasn’t exactly hard to predict given the circumstances.  
“Well I guess that’s the job of a good…” Mike didn’t stop talking but Thomas couldn’t hear him over the sound of a shrill shriek. He jumped in panic, his first thoughts on the swarm. There were no dead here, what could they possibly want? Thomas looked around, fear consuming him. He then saw the likely source, four parishioners gathered around a tablet computer looking at something apparently disturbing. Thomas’ fear gave way to curiosity as he moved towards the trio.  
“That’s not right, that can’t be human.” The voice belonged to Missy McCullough, a busybody of some 75 years who had been known to be prone to outbursts of hyperbole.  
“They’re saying it’s not human.” It was Dave. The computer was in his hand. “It’s scary.”  
“It’s horrifying.” Next to Dave was Percy, Dave’s best friend since childhood and, in Thomas’ mind, a bit of a pest. Of course when Thomas stopped and thought about it, that was mostly the impression Thomas had of him when they were kids. He hadn’t interacted with him very much in their adult years.  
“That can’t be true.” Thomas wondered how Missy came to be hovering around the two boys, only to realize she probably saw a scene and decided the only neighborly thing to do was to insinuate herself.  
“She destroyed that man with a single punch? I don’t think there’s anybody alive with that kind of power.” It didn’t really surprise Thomas that Dave was still jumping at shadows. He was the first to see the swarm descend, and he was probably traumatized almost as badly as Thomas himself.  
Thomas’s curiosity, and a bit of concern prompted him to join in on the conversation.  
“Not human? Dave, what are you talking about?”  
“This.” Dave showed the screen of the tablet to Thomas. Playing was a video of an atm at night. A woman comes to the machine to do business, then a man comes up behind her and clearly attempts to accost her. Then the woman calmly backhands the man hard enough that even in the shadowly, grainy footage Thomas could clearly see the man’s neck snap.  
“Goodness Dave, do you have to show that vile thing in here again? Wasn’t once enough.” Missy protested.  
“I don’t think Thomas has seen it yet. I think everybody needs to see it. This is big.”  
“Dave, I mean it’s terrifying. But it’s probably a fake.” Thomas tried to allow cooler heads to prevail.

“Nuh uh, it’s been doing the rounds for the last 48 hours. If it was fake it probably would have been debunked by now.”  
“Are you talking about the ATM video?” Another parishioner approached the scene. “As far as anybody can tell it’s real. And over the last 48 hours stuff has apparently been going on around the globe. Apparently a bunch of vigilantes have been going around and taking out people suspected of ties to organized crime. Human trafficking rings have been broken up. Drug labs have been smashed. Boats with tons of contraband have been found floating near the coasts with nobody inside of them.”  
“Who could possibly do that?” Percy asked the man.  
“I think…um…” Another parishioner joined the conversation, began his thought, looked at Thomas and decided to hold his thoughts.  
“Cat got your tongue Dale?” Thomas knew the man as Dale Smith, a member of the ubiquitous Smith clan. Dale had 10 brothers and sisters and they were all in the church at the moment somewhere. As far as fellow members of the church went, Thomas could only count the Smiths as acquaintances. He certainly couldn’t figure out why Dale would hold his tongue around him.  
“With what went down I don’t know if I should…”  
“What does that have to do with anything?” Thomas was confused, even though in the back of his mind, revelation was dawning.  
“Thomas, people are thinking it’s the Expungers.” Percy was the one to blurt it out. As the conversation carried on, more and more parishioners gathered around.  
“The Exp…the fly things? Now the fly things are fighting drug lords? That doesn’t make any sense.”  
“The Expungers aren’t just the flies. Remember ‘the event’ back at the beginning of the month. That man looked human. People are starting to think that they’re walking among us. People are thinking that the lady in the atm video was one of them.”  
“Walking among us? That’s insane!” Thomas started to become upset and terrified all at once. The idea of the monsters who killed Ned and stole his wife wearing human faces was utterly sickening to him.  
“That’s the theory. So far the ATM video is the only solid evidence though.”  
“It’s about time those things have started actually helping us.” A voice in the crowd that Thomas couldn’t immediately identify spoke. “I mean didn’t that Emissary guy say something about helping us? Then his flies steal our dead. How is that helping us? Now they’re actually doing some good. I don’t wanna come down on their side or anything but…”  
“They STOLE my wife and KILLED NED! Are you INSANE!?” Thomas didn’t know who he was yelling at, but he wanted to make sure he was heard.  
“Look, I can’t make heads or tails of it either. I just know that if we have to deal with those stupid bugs overhead it’s nice to know that they’re actually doing something helpful.”  
“Look, maybe they are trying to help us. I mean, I don’t know why they’re taking our dead but trying to eliminate organized crime is a pretty good thing in my book.”  
“Sure, if you don’t believe in laws or justice. Who made them judge, jury and executioner?”  
Thomas couldn’t tell who was saying what anymore, he just knew it was making him very, very angry. He parted the crowd and made his way back outside. As much as he didn’t want to talk about those other things, he really, really did not want to take part in any discussion that might paint the bastards who stole his wife and ruined the foundational beliefs he built his life on in a positive light. Whatever Richards had to say could wait, he was going home.  
“Did you hear about that cult up near Charlotte?”  
Thomas paused in curiosity. He couldn’t place a face to the voice and he had no clue what a cult had to do with anything going on, but he was curious enough to stop in his tracks.  
“A cult?” Thomas didn’t verbalize the question, somebody else did. He was thinking it though.  
“Yeah, the Collective Assembly For a Better Tomorrow. They’re likening the Expungers to some kind of race of God Machines. I don’t know much about them, but they seem to be growing fast.”  
Thomas turned to the throng with rage in his eyes.  
“People out there are WORSHIPPING those fucking monsters!?”  
“I’m not saying I agree or even understand Thomas. I’m just saying that yeah, there are people like that out there. I don’t get what would ever drive people to do something so desperate and reckless.” The voice belonged to Alan Smith, another of the Smith clan.  
“This is what happens to people who don’t allow Jesus into their life. Their heads get filled with all sorts of craziness.” The voice belonged to Sophie. Usually Thomas would disavow such a stance, but he was hurting for any kind of other explanation at moment.

“This is what despair looks like Sophie. The world is a mess, and no matter how much we pray it just seems to keep getting worse. It doesn’t surprise me that people are looking for an easy fix.” Thomas could recognize the voice as Marjorie, one of Sophie’s bridge buddies.  
“Marge, I’ve known you for almost 70 years and I’ve never heard such sinner talk come out of your mouth.”  
“That’s why people are turning from Jesus Sophie. People like you and Ned Cline chastising anybody who says anything you disapprove of. I wouldn’t want to buy what you were selling either if I was a stray lamb.”  
Thomas was not in the mood to listen to a Septuagenarian theology debate. He was not in the mood to entertain the notion that there were people who agreed with what the monsters were doing. He didn’t want to be part of a throng right now. He had heard enough and he just wanted to be alone.  
As Thomas left the Church and headed to his car he saw that once again, Pastor Richards was one step ahead of him.  
“I’m sorry, I just can’t be here right now.” Thomas didn’t want to get into an argument with Richards, but he was leaving.  
“I can’t rightly blame you. I heard all the hullaballoo and saw you trying to part the metaphorical red sea, so I guessed at what you were doing.”  
“Sorry, but that talk is going to have to wait. I can not be here right now.” Thomas repeated.  
“No, no you can’t. I was hoping that intermingling with the congregation would bring some calm to you. But this was an unexpected turn of events. Still, I would like to talk to you one on one today. If you’re willing to come back in the afternoon, once all of this has cleared up and everybody has gone home, I would be greatly appreciative.”  
“What precisely do you want to say to me Pastor?” Thomas was starting to struggle with the idea of why Pastor Richards wanted to speak with him so desperately.  
“I simply feel as though you could use some counsel. Am I wrong?”  
“Not really, but I don’t think you can talk this away.”  
“Perhaps not. But nor can you ignore this away.”  
“I’m still tempted to try.”  
“Please don’t. Have I ever steered you wrong?”  
Thomas had to admit that in the 15 years he knew him, Pastor Richards had never steered him wrong. But nor did he bring Beth back. Nor could he help the world make sense again.  
“No, you haven’t”  
“Then can I count on you to clear some time from your schedule?”  
“Yeah…yeah you can. But I need to be alone right now.”  
“Be alone now. But don’t count out the comfort of others. I’ll speak with you soon. For now I need to try to diffuse an argument.”  
Thomas got in his car and drove home. As livid as he was, he had to admit it was comforting to feel ‘something’. 

When Thomas got home, morbid curiosity consumed him, and the only thing he could think of doing was going to the internet and seeing with his own eyes if the things the congregation spoke of were true. He slowly scoured the news pages, searching for stories that matched the tales he was told in the Church. And the internet was not slow to provide info. The splash for each news page revolved around some inexplicable act of vigilantism. There were Reports from missing persons about being rescued from human trafficking operations by people who appeared to be superhuman. Coast Guard reports of empty ships near the coastline containing untouched containers of drugs, guns and other contraband. Tales from Japan about known Yakuza-backed businesses being hit and numerous people with known and suspected ties to the organization vanishing without a trace. And the common thread, there was nobody to arrest, there were no bodies to be found. Nothing. There was only one explanation that made sense in Thomas’ mind.  
“The fucking flies.”  
His curiosity sated about the vigilante attacks, he decided to do a different search. He put the phrase “Collective Assembly for a Better Tomorrow.” He hoped it was a horrid rumor. It was not. They had their own web page.

Greetings to all prospective brothers and sisters,  
It can be said without a shadow of a doubt that we are living in uncertain times. For all of our advancements War, Poverty, Crime, Corruption, Pollution and other social and environmental ills continue to plague us. At times it seems as though there is simply no hope for the human condition to overcome the obstacles placed before us. But for the first time in our shared history, true hope is visited upon us. An alien presence has come to visit it and has seen fit to bless it with its benedictions. Yes, The Expungers have arrived to help us. To help us transcend fear. To help us transcend pain, and greed and hate. And all they ask in return is our cooperation. All they wish is for us to allow them to aid us. While it is true that so far not all of their actions appear wholly altruistic, but as a race evolved beyond our capacity to fully understand, we can only assume it is for a greater good we can not at this time comprehend. We must see these glorious beings as they are, agents of a benevolence that exists beyond our knowing, and we must give them the cooperation and aid they so righteously demand of us. We must beseech our local, state and national governments to give them the capitulation they require. We must let them know that the populace of our world exists to serve them in whatever capacity they require. Only then can we hope to truly evolve above what constrains us. On behalf of our Assembly, I welcome you to visit our hall, to see our good intentions and righteous goals for yourself, and then we hope we can count you amongst our numbers.

~The Reverend Ethan Lucas 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Thomas muttered to himself, wondering how Pastor Richards would explain this insanity away. 

Pastor Richards’ office was clean, almost to the point of being sterile. Thomas had been here many times before, and had never ceased to be impressed by his organizational capabilities. It was one of the many things he envied about the Pastor.  
“Ah Thomas,” Pastor Richards greeted him in his typical warmth. “I would not have been surprised if you didn’t come back, but I am greatly pleased that you have. Please, sit down.” Thomas was more than happy to oblige him.  
“Yes Thomas, I asked you to come here because I can tell that with the events of a few days ago you are in desperate need of guidance.”  
“I’d say I am, but I’m not longer certain what it would fix.” Thomas wasn’t capable of mustering any significant emotion in his reply, making him sound dour and depressed.  
“Well I can’t say that I can make the swarms of scavengers go away. Nor can I take back the events that have led you to this point in your life. Which is to say, a point in which you are suffering from a severe crisis of faith?”  
“Yeah, you could say that.”  
“Indeed, nothing in my teachings would account for the events that have occurred around the world. Well, perhaps the plagues of Egypt. Somehow I don’t think the situations are comparable.”  
“Let’s say they were, what is God punishing us for? What does God wish of us? I simply can not wrap my head around how these “expungers” and God as I know him are compatible.”  
“Ah yes, the root of your present crisis. Tenuous connection to old testament God aside, nothing we are witnessing here makes any sense? The Bible offers no account of Alien life forms. The technology these beings exhibit seems to exist beyond anything mankind could create, if they are some manner of demon, why are they helping us, if they are some kind of Angel, why are they disturbing the rest of our hallowed dead? Am I correct.”  
“Something like that, yeah.” Thomas was not willing to concede the notion that the Expungers were aiding humanity in any way, shape or form.  
“Well Thomas, in the however many millennia since the core beliefs of our religion were put into place, we’ve had to contend with many issues that challenge what we understood to be absolute truth. The Jews of the Roman Empire sought a savior wielding a flaming sword, to aid them in taking the land they thought to be rightfully theirs, they got an emissary of peace and compassion who promised a reward, not in this life, but the next. The rift that this conflict created Christianity. In the centuries that followed a ‘dark age’ of sort descended over the land and the Church ruled with an iron fist. Like Ned Cline, God was their weapon. The compassionate dogma of the Son of God was twisted and contorted to suit the interests of cruel men with cruel thoughts on their minds. I wonder how many of the peasants who suffered under this cruel regime thought the same but were afraid to voice their thoughts out of fear of being branded a heretic. And then came the Black Death, a plague so horrible it could be called the end of days for those who lived and loved under the light of God. There were those who called it punishment and delighted as it ravaged their enemies, until it came for them. There were those who called it a test of their piety, and were claimed by it despite their orisons to the almighty. And there were still others who called it a sign that God as it was known was not the whole truth. It made them think. It made them question. It weakened the bonds the Church held over them and in its aftermath the Renaissance came to be once the Church had lost enough of its power to be questioned. We would come to learn that the world is round, that the galaxy is solar-centric, that the body is not controlled by the notion of humors and that homosexuality is indeed, not a choice. Each of these revelations was violently contested and battled by people who could not abide their core beliefs and their knowledge of the workings of the universe being challenged. I have come to accept that I do not know everything. I have come to accept that this” Pastor Richards points at the Bible resting on his desk “Does not know everything. To some, the belief that their accepted dogma is wrong about one thing is to shake the belief in all they have been taught. And I believe that there is the source of your problem. In the days of your wife’s illness, you eventually had nothing to take solace in except the belief that even this was part of God’s plan. That God simply could not wait to call Beth to her eternal reward, and that should you continue to live in a Godly way, you would be reunited in the end and all would be well. Am I correct?”  
“Yes, of course.” Thomas couldn’t help but get upset. He already knew the problem. Why Pastor Richards felt the need to go over it in painful detail was unknown to him.  
“I will go back to the Black Death. It killed many, it was terrible to behold and even more terrible to suffer. But in the end it paved the way for a greater good. It took the reigns of Christendom from those who sought to abuse it and put it in the hands of thinkers, learners and idealists who despite their misgivings with how their God was represented never questioned his existence or his benevolence in spite of what should have been overwhelming despair. The world was not perfect, it was simply better. It was better because of those who allowed neither their hearts or their minds to be poisoned, but rather allowed them to be opened to a world of possibilities they could have never known were it not for the tragedy that befell them.”  
“So even in demonstration of compassion, God is still arbitrary and cruel, is that the great lesson here?” Thomas challenged Richards thesis. Richard merely sighed.

“Yes, the Black Death was horrible. I can not deny this. And the notion of ‘Greater Good’ does not always bring succor to me. But this I believe. God would not send such plagues without recompense. Those who suffered for the greater Good are in their eternal reward. I still have faith Thomas. Perhaps I do not have faith in ‘this’” Richards again motioned to the Bible. “But I have faith is ‘this’” Richards extended his arms and slowly made a circle, as if to encompass the world in an embrace. “I believe that for all its shortcomings, humankind and life in general is a thing that can only prosper through a higher power. I believe those who serve will be rewarded. And I know you will see Beth again Thomas.”  
“How can you routinely question the book you have committed your life to serving? How can you reconcile its alleged wrongness with how you’ve been living your own life? Why are you even here?”  
“Because over the thousands of years since its introduction, the word of God has become the word of man. Numerous translations, retellings, edit and omissions that serve whomever happened to be in power at the time. And even if it wasn’t, can you honestly say that the humans of that era were prepared to know the cosmic truths of the universe. How can you reconcile the idea of a solar-centric universe to people whom had no devices to measure it for themselves? Come now, perfect understanding of the universe, or toilet paper. You’d have to be a fool to believe the former came first.”  
“Why are you telling me this now? Are you trying to help me? Or are you having a crisis of faith yourself? Because if you are, I’m not the person to counsel you.”  
“No Thomas. I tell you this now because all at once you need faith and you need something more than faith. Have faith that the core tenants are in place. Have faith that the expungers are just another plague that will lead us to a greater future. But do not constrain yourself with arbitrary dogma. Have an open mind to what the world will throw at you. You are a leader of men Thomas. You have been for all the 15 years I have known you. You were a 4 letter athlete, an honor roll student, a pillar of strength in the community, a community you have served and lead all your life until your wife’s health began to fail and suddenly you were the one who needed help. The community gave it to the best of their ability. The community will need you again Thomas. It’s wholly possible a new world order is upon us. People like you are in short supply. The despair you feel no longer serves you, so I beg of you, let God’s light elate your heart and steel you for what is to come, because I guarantee you that no matter how dire the world may seem, you have the strength to overcome. The congregation needs you Thomas. At the end of this it may well be possible the world will need you.”  
“I don’t know if I can be what you need me to be anymore.”  
“Well, I do. Forgive me for putting this on your shoulders, but sad as it seems, this may well be an age of despair. Have hope, but do not hope for the wrong things.”  
“What are the wrong things?”  
“I have faith when that when it comes, you will know.”  
There was a stony silence in the pastor’s office. Thomas didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t comprehend Richards faith in him. Thomas couldn’t visualize having faith in anything. He spoke of the black death, but even that was a terrestrial phenomenon, something that could eventually be explained away, as horrible as it was, the black death was natural. There was nothing natural about this. The Expungers were created by neither God nor man. Their motivations inscrutable, their power, undeniable. Thomas continued to be lost in thought until the silence was broken by Pastor Richards’ phone.  
“Forgive me Thomas, this seems to be important.” Thomas thought about leaving as Pastor Richards played on his phone. Thomas assumed he was texting whomever messaged him but was proven wrong seconds later when he heard a video begin to play on Richards’ phone.  
“It begins in earnest.” Richards said solemnly.  
The sentence sent chills through Thomas.  
“What begins.”  
Wordlessly Richards turned his phone to face Thomas. What he saw there was something he could not believe.  
“A movie trailer?”  
“No my son. The expungers are hitting Mexico, hard.”  
Thomas stared slack jawed at the video, which showed military forces battling against machinery that was usually not to be seen in reality except for movies and nightmares.

April 12th

Deus Ex Machina. God from the machine; The notion of a seemingly unsolvable situation being corrected by nonsensical divine aid. Deus Ex Machina was a subject of Greek plays, not of daily life. But it was happening. It was happening in front of Gail Guerra, and it was the happiest day of her life.  
Gail Guerra loved her home country; she loved its locales, its sights, its sounds, its cultural heritage and above all its people. Unlike many journalists, it was Gail’s ambition to be a fluff piece writer, going to every far flung locale of her country and bringing its unique flavor to the people at home. But in this regard, fate had not been kind to Gail. Her becoming a journalist coincided perfectly with the escalation of the Mexican Drug War. The Government had become aggressive towards the various cartels that had contaminated her beloved country. This caused a military escalation, as the Cartels in the years had become too ingrained and too powerful for the government to easily remove. In their desperation, anger and greed, not just towards the government but to each other, the cartels emerged as legitimate military powers. Their tendrils dug deep and corrupted from top to bottom. From the impoverished unfortunates who were lured by promises of power and escape to the local, state and national police forces, to the upper rungs of their government. Their goals had moved beyond simply trafficking their goods, they sought to remake Mexico, culturally, economically, and geopolitically, in their country. Gail wished simply to report on her country’s beauty, but instead she found herself combating its ugliness.  
Gail had tried to be brave. She tried to educate a public to reject the pro-cartel propaganda they spewed by making note of their atrocities. And for her efforts she was frequently ignored, bullied and on more than one occasion, assaulted. Fearing for her life, when things grew too hot in one region she would move on to another, all the while fearing, not only for her life but fearing that the end result of her labors, even if they came to fruition, would be simply to create a power vacuum in which another cartel would assert itself.  
She saw an increasing number of Mexican youths, ruined by her country’s useless education system turning to the cartel’s vile ‘narco’ culture. She saw police forces turn blind eyes to the atrocities these cartels carried out, either out of fear or a manufactured self-interest. She saw innocents bleed and the guilty triumph. As the years wore on and the fighting grew worse, she began to fear she had no home. She thought to expatriate, but to where? To the even more financially desolate central American states? To the United States? So she could be seen as a parasite, a resource to be simultaneously exploited and scapegoated? No, such a place had no home for her. As vile and insufferable as it had become, her home was here and she would very likely watch it die…if she lived long enough.  
That despair was replaced by both hope and fear as she saw the first of the Expungers touch down. She was not blind to the arrival of these bizarre self-professed ‘saviors’. She had seen the event. The scavengers flew over the city of Ochoa, the city in the region of Michoacán she now inhabited. She saw them swoop them many times to claim those taken in the senseless street violence that had become entirely too commonplace in areas like this. She held neither love nor hate for those mechanical pallbearers, all her heart was directed toward terrestrial affairs. Until now.  
The shadow loomed over the entire city block. Gail had initially thought it a solar eclipse until she gazed out the window and saw the ‘thing’ that loomed over her. It looked like an aircraft carrier of sorts, except it flew silently through the air. She gazed in terror and wonder; her body told her she should run, that she should get as far from this thing as humanly possible. But part of her marveled at this sight, unlike anything humanity had ever witnessed before. And that was before the shadows fell from it.  
The first fell into a park some 500 yards from her apartment. It was massive, eclipsing the 3 story complexed Gail had lived in. It was vaguely humanoid but obviously artificial, it looked for all the world like one of those mechs that permeated science fiction offering. Gail was suddenly living in Pacific Rim and the thought paralyzed her with fear. Until she saw its first action.  
The apartment complex adjacent to the park was a well known hideout for one of the local cartels. It was used as a arecruitment center, a propaganda center and a waystation for traffickers as they made their way to the pacific. The Expunger took a single look at it (out of what Gail assumed were its eyes), took two massive steps towards the building and swung one of its gargantuan arms, taking out a sizable chunk of both the eastern and southern walls. Despite her fear, Gail found herself elated. It looked as if God almighty had granted her nightly prayers in the most direct method possible. The thought that the behemoth might turn its attention towards her structure never entered her mind as she gazed at the men fleeing the building. Her gaze did not even break seconds later when multiple RPG rounds crashed into the mechanical Titan both from within the exposed building. From Gail’s perspective it looked like somebody trying to blow up a Rhino with a cherry bomb and it had a similar effect. Without moving the Expunger returned fire, several hundred rounds exploded from various (invisible to Gail) orifices, violently carving the Cartel members into organ meat. 

Gail briefly worried about innocents caught in the crossfire, but decided that any innocent would have found themselves as far away from that thing as they could possibly get.  
Gail could see other shadows falling from the dimly lit sky in the distance, and suddenly the hum of mechanical wings grew deafening. She could see from the cracks of sunlight from the edge of the flying battle station that the scavenger swarms were coming down to claim the remains.  
Once she saw them converge upon the area where the behemoth was doing its grisly work it was obvious that was the case. But what Gail was not expecting to see in the chaos were several spheres flying down with the swarm. Suddenly Gail was stunned when something inside the building exploded, Gail quickly surmised that it was the result of a gas line broken when the behemoth attacked the building. The fire was visibly spreading fast on the third floor. But then 2 of the sphere, which looked to be about Maya’s size in diameter crashed into the third floor through two of the windows. Suddenly the fire died down as the broken windows overflowed with something that looked like the foam fire extinguishers used. The fire was quickly subdued and the two spheres flew out the way they came. More presumed cartel members fled from the building, likely to regroup in one of their band’s fortified locales, the behemoth mowed them down as they ran. For the first time since witnessing this spectacle Gail felt a hint of sadness. Not all of the inhabitants of that building were necessarily in the cartel, but the behemoth didn’t care. It was at about this time that Gail decided that if she was going to be collateral damage, she was going to go down doing what she wanted, she wanted the world to see this Deus Ex for themselves. She knew that if she was right, and the Expungers had come down to send the Mexican War on Drugs to a bloody, abrupt finale, it wouldn’t just make her career to report from the front lines, having a front row seat would be the greatest thrill of her life…even if it was her last. She desperately dug for her phone, as she ran out of the house, desperate to avoid a potential hostage crisis before her work could begin.  
“Manny. Get your ass to Ochoa. Shit is going down!” Gail called Manny, a close friend who had served as her cameraman on more than one occasion.  
“I’m already on my way. I saw this…thing fly through the air up here in Jalisco, it looked like it was heading to Michoacán. I’m assuming you saw it.”  
“It’s over my HOUSE Manny! It’s dropped giant robot assholes and they’re kicking the shit out of the Cartel here!” Gail was generally disinclined to swear excessively unless she was excited.  
“Over your HOUSE? Are you shitting me? I think I’m about 45 minutes out. Think they’ll wait.”  
“I don’t think they’re going anywhere any time soon, except maybe that stronghold the Merez Cartel is using. I’m going to find a safe place for us to meet, then we’re getting the fuck over there. Get here soon, if they’re doing what I think they’re doing I want your camera rolling and that shit on the internet and maybe even the TV today! I don’t give a shit if it has to be found footage. We are documenting this if it is the last thing we ever do.”  
“We’re going to be filming a cartel fighting giant space robots, this actually may well be the last thing we do.”  
Gail didn’t care if this was true. This was the greatest day of her life.

There was a café about a half mile from her house, a half mile the opposite direction from where the expunger she had seen was wreaking havoc. On her run there she could she that the one in the park wasn’t alone. There were others. There were also innumerable panicked people looking for a place to hide. She figured the café would be relatively calm, given that it was at least a half mile away from any cartel hives she knew of. She sat down and looked at the street, hoping she would see Manny’s car sooner, rather than later. Upon looking at the road she realized that that may not be a realistic hope, car were flooding the streets, creating a massive, one way traffic jam, many motorists were so panicked they jumped to the wrong lane, deciding to take the risk of running into oncoming traffic rather than sticking around to be perforated by the robotic invasion force. A few minutes after initially witnessing the scene she received a text. 

Got run off the road. On foot about 3 miles away. 

Gail could see her chance of a lifetime in jeopardy. Though she was concerned for her friend, a combination of ambition tinged with bloodlust kept her focused on her goal. She knew the area well enough to know that they were going to have to walk to get to a vantage point overlooking the stronghold where they wouldn’t stick out or be. She was hoping to be able to walk there from the café, but realized that if Manny was walking anyway it would make more sense to just meet him there and hope nothing happened to him. She texted him back.

Just head to the Merez Stronghold, I’ll meet you near the hill where we taped it last time.

About a month back Gail had done a piece of places known to be owned and operated by the Merez Cartel. The old military installation was the piece de resistance. She had been lying low since then, trying to figure out her next move knowing that if the Merez found her there would be hell to pay. She remembered how scared she was on the assignment. She remembered all the locals she found where her and Manny could film without drawing attention to themselves. She remembered the hill towards the rear of the installation was the only place she was comfortable filming from. It wasn’t the best shot, but it was safe. She had a feeling that perspective would be the least of her problems on this shoot.  
Gail ran into surprisingly few people on her way to the stronghold. She gathered that it was likely most of the populace were fleeing via the main roads, whereas the stronghold was in an isolated part of the city. As she ran to her goal she could see the swarms flying overhead and every so occasionally she would see a bizarre blanket foam near areas that looked like they had at one point been on fire.  
She made it to the hill well before Manny. She couldn’t see over the walls from her vantage point but she could see armed men in the watch towers. Not all the towers were manned on their last visit so Gail and Manny were able to film from their blind side, but this time there were. She briefly wondered how she was going to escape their notice. Then she realized that given what was coming after them, they weren’t about to waste their bullets on her.  
Finally she saw Manny in the distance. She ran over to him, figuring that she could at least help with his equipment these last few hundred yards. When she got close enough to see his face, she could tell he was exhausted and rattled. Gail wasn’t used to seeing Manny rattled. Neither of them were easily put off their game, but Manny was always the more daring of the two of them. Seeing him like this briefly made her wonder if she was truly grasping the gravity of the situation.  
“You look like hell Manny.”  
“I just marched 30 goddamn pounds of camera equipment for like, 3 miles.”  
“Ahhh, you’ve done worse.”  
“I had to chase off a couple of fuckers who thought it would be a good time to do a little looting.” Gail could see that Manny had his piece around his waist.  
“Did you have to fire it?”  
“No, just had to pick this one asshole’s nose with it. That got the point across. So what do you think is going to happen here? I’ve heard a bunch of people freaking out over giant Robots, but I’ve only seen the little ones…well and whatever the fuck it is that’s blocking out the sun.”  
“I’ve only seen the one up close. It literally punched a hole in the Merez Flophouse on 9th. The guys inside attacked it, and it just killed them like they were nothing.”  
“Do we know they’re after the Cartels specifically or are they just killing indiscriminately?”  
“They only attacked the house on 9th that I’m aware of.” Gail paused for a moment as she realized that up until this point she had been going largely on a massive hunch. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that the behemoth would attack the flophouse out of all the buildings in the area, but she left quickly. It was possible that it carried on its path of destruction to the adjoining buildings. “Well…the event. They said they were here to help right?” Gail was mostly trying to convince herself at this point.  
“And you believe them? They’ve been stealing our dead.”  
“They’ve been doing small scale stuff against assholes like this around the world. But they must have figured out that the small scale shit isn’t going to work down here. Our Cartels are like armies. Now they’re getting serious.”  
“Well shit, Either they show up and they probably attack the big ass military installation that will likely be shooting at them or we’re far away enough that they’ll just ign…holy shit!”  
Manny lifted his camera to roll without saying another word. Gail instinctively got out of the frame, turned around and tried to see whatever it was that Manny saw. She didn’t have to try very hard.  
Whether she was seeing the same behemoth as before or a different one was unknown, but she saw its massive frame on the horizon, slowly advancing towards the installation. Then she heard the sound of its footprints crushing whatever happened to be underfoot. Then she felt the tremors the terrifying god-machine made with each ponderous step.  
“I’d say I don’t believe it, but given all the other craziness…actually even though everything has gone crazy, this is frankly another tier. Where the hell have the expungers been hiding these things?” As Manny rambled, Gail gazed in awe at a thing something inside her saw only as her savior. “Well Gail, are you going to report?”  
“No, I’m not getting in the way of this shot. This picture is worth a million words.”  
“Then get down so we don’t get winged by any stray bullets.” Manny said, taking the prone position on the hill.  
Between the wings of thousands of scavengers and the footsteps of the colossus, Gail barely heard the shots being fired out of the stronghold. But she could see that several members of the Merez organization had aligned themselves along the ramparts and were unloading assault weapon fire into the massive expunger. The bullets did absolutely nothing to halt the monsters advance as he slowly made his way to the eastern wall of the stronghold.  
“I’m not going to lie Gail. The second that thing is done destroying that base, I’m taking the tape out of the camera, leaving that shit here and running for my life. The only thing keeping me in place right now is the fact that I am too scared to move.”  
Gail was not listening. Gail had moved beyond fear. Gail had moved beyond even understanding the danger she was in. She was enrapt. After years of watching her beloved country get torn apart by the Merez Cartel and people like them…this mechanical juggernaut was her knight in white armor. Watching it annihilate those who had hurt her and brought that which she loved to ruin made her ecstatic. It wasn’t even about news anymore. It was about justice. It was about revenge.  
Then, the explosions happened. Gail was shaken out of her trance as several rounds of mortar fire came from inside the stronghold, hitting their mark. Gail could see that the titan was not invincible. Flecks of its white outer coating had cracked and crumbled, The thing momentarily seemed to be off balance, but still it advanced. It advanced through several rounds of thrown grenades and RPG rockets. When it reached the gates, it looked somewhat wounded. But the machine was not deterred. Much like it did on 9th street, the behemoth reared its arm back and violently punched the concrete rebar reinforced wall, cracking it. Another punch came and the rebar was exposed in spots. A third and the remaining Merez footsoldiers fled the ramparts. Gail wondered where they thought they were running to until she heard an unfamiliar sound in the sky.  
“SHIT! Manny look up.” Gail pointed at the sky, where a trio of human-made aircraft were making an approach from the west.  
“Holy fuck. Drones. The Merez have drones?”  
“It could be the government.”  
“If they were government drones they wouldn’t be attacking out here in the middle of nowhere. The Merez probably got some of their military buddies so send in reinforcements.  
Gail could only watch as the drones dropped a payload on top of the behemoth. The explosions were deafening, the eastern wall was obliterated by the strike. The dust made seeing the effects initially impossible.  
When the dusk settled, Gail’s heart sank. The behemoth. The weapon of divine vengeance against the evils of the land, was still. Its form was largely intact, though most of the white exo-armor was going, revealing blackness underneath. Gail hoped that the damage from the explosions was just cosmetic, but that hope too died when chunks of the machine began falling off. Gail was utterly heartbroken. She fought back tear as she saw her proud protector silenced. In the back of her mind she tried to reason away the debacle in front of her. There were other behemoths. There HAD to be other behemoths. Where where they? Why did they send only one here? Why didn’t it use its ballistics? Why the hell just happened?  
But then what Gail and Manny saw was utterly surreal. The husk of the fallen behemoth cracked, and fell apart like an egg, and from that egg emerged…something. From Gail’s perspective it looked like a spider’s brood birthing. Dozens of tinier machines erupted from its form, each of them was jet black and roughly human sized and shaped. They erupted through the devastated walls into the base proper. Gail could not see what was going on inside the base. She was tempted to swing around to the east side only to be stopped by Manny.  
“Nuh uh, no way Gail. Show’s over. We are done here.” Manny, true to his word began to remove the tape from his camera when he saw another flying human-made aircraft. The Merez had launched an attack chopper from the inside of the base. It hovered over the base, firing at what Gail and Manny could only assume were the obsidian humanoids infesting the base. Manny’s journalistic instincts took over and he resumed filming. Gail for her part didn’t know whether to be elated or terrified, as she had no idea how the battle was going from the inside of the base.  
“Dammit Manny, we need to get a better angle!”  
“This is already the shot of the century, we don’t need to further end…” Manny’s words froze as he saw that the skies had spawned another aircraft, this one was decidedly not human made. It vaguely resembled a mechanical squid. A mass of metal tentacles emerging from a central core. What allowed it to fly could not be immediately intuited, but it flew as the squid of its resemblance swam, gracefully swimming through the sky. It’s purpose became obvious as it quickly attacked the chopper, several of its tentacles entangled themselves around the propeller, two more of its tentacles grabbed the body of the chopper, and one more tentacle punched through the windshield, grabbed the pilot and casually threw him to the ground below. The sky-squid then tore the propeller from the chopper, dropping it straight down into the base. It’s elegant yet devastating dance concluded when it carried the body of the chopper north beyond the walls of the base and dropped it, causing another explosion. As the squid flew back into the sky, Gail could see a number of the little spheres emerge from the sky, presumably to extinguish the fires caused by the chopper exploding.  
“We need to get out of here. I don’t know what those little things that came out of the big thing were, but there are enough of them that I don’t want them to get bored and decide we’re next.”  
“Ok fine…we’ve got enough. Send it to all the cable outlets first. If there’s no bites, just throw it up on Youtube.”  
“Youtube. I wanna get paid for this shit!”

“Look, either the news outlets will kill themselves in a bidding war and make you really rich or there’s a bunch of other footage like this making the rounds, which means you won’t get dick for this so you might as well just put it out there.”  
“You mean ‘we’ might get rich?”  
Gail really wasn’t thinking about money much at this point.  
“I didn’t do much.”  
“You just pointed me to the opening salvo of the war of man against machine. I’d say that counts for something.”  
“Well, I won’t argue. Let’s just get the hell out of here. None of this will matter if we get caught by a random carpet bombing.” She said as they got up to leave. Manny, despite his previous promise, brought his camera equipment with him.  
Gail never thought she would leave the site of a massacre feeling better than she ever had in her life. But at that time she knew, that despite Manny’s protests. Despite the upheaval and carnage all around her, she knew that the Expungers were here to help us.

April 13th

The UN General Assembly buzzed with disquiet and concern. It might have been easy for the united governments of the world to dismiss the radical increase in vigilante activity worldwide as an affair for local law enforcement to deal with. They could dismiss it as a coincidence, and not the work of the otherworldly visitors that filled their skies and erected monuments in their deserts. But the attacks in Mexico banished any notion of plausible deniability. The Expungers were no longer interested in the dead, but the living.  
The collective assembly looked towards the one called The Emissary with a combination of scorn and concern. They had collectively decided to disregard the presence of the self-proclaimed representative of the Expungers. Attempts to engage him after their initial dialogue had limited success with the Emissary only reiterating previous points. Few in the assembly suffered his presence gladly, but given that the Emissary’s inexplicable physical prowess and the fact that he seemed to hold the mechanical flies referred to as ‘The Scavengers’ under his thrall, attempting to physically remove him from the proceedings would prove to be incredibly dangerous. So they attempted to simply conduct their business around him, and for his part he hadn’t moved from the spot in the hall he had claimed as his own 9 days prior, not even when the assembly would adjourn. He simply stood there like a mannequin unless he was being directly engaged. And today he would be directly engaged by the UN representative of Mexico Carla Marquez.  
“My country and my people are being attacked by a force unlike any this world has ever seen before.” Her voice was impassioned, motivated by an underlying current of wrath and fear. “We were attacked without warning and without reason. We don’t know why they are there, we do not know why, of all the countries on the planet, ours was chosen as the staging area of your first military counteroffensive. So Mr. Emissary, for lack of a better title, I believe at the very least the people of Mexico deserve to know why they are being attacked by alien monstrosities!”  
She glared to the right of the dais where the Emissary had stood, as he always had. Carla did not know whether or not he would respond, or if the response would offer any succor or hope for her people, but without opening the lines of negation, nothing could improve. Much to her relief, for the first time in days, the Emissary moved towards the dais.  
“Representative Marquez, President Prudhomme, if I may take the dais at this time.” Marquez and Prudhomme acquiesced, both out of a desire to see his response and a knowledge that The Emissary was simply offering them a social grace, if he wished the dais, he proved that he would simply take it.  
“Very well, as you are all now well aware as of 12 noon on April the 12th 2015 the collective entities who have dubbed themselves “The Expungers” have began their first overt military operation against the paramilitary criminal cartels of Mexico. We would like to offer every assurance to representative Marquez and the United Nations general assembly that our intents in Mexico at this time is simply to root out and expunge these degenerate elements of the human condition. As I have stated in the past, we are here to help.”  
“You’ve caused nationwide chaos. Billions in property damage, hundreds of thousands of civilians and innocents displaced.” Representative Marquez was livid. “On top of that, since your invasion started yesterday, there have been numerous reports of assassinations among prominent military officers and politicians. By our counts at this time 65 military officers and 106 politicians of various city, state and national offices have been killed via mysterious circumstances.”  
“Yes, those are us. By our estimation, we have successfully expunged 34.6% of the corrupt officials and military officers of significant rank without the Mexican Government. We intend to be at 100% within the next 48 hours. For anybody wondering, representative Marquez will not need to be expunged at this time. As for collateral damage, rest assured that upon governmental capitulation to us we shall spare no effort in rebuilding not only the infrastructure of the parts of your country ravaged by our actions, but all of your country as a whole. We are here to help you.”  
“So all we have to do is submit to you and all will be all right?! How do you even know whom within our government is guilty of aiding the drug cartels? And what makes you think you have any right to deliver justice upon them, completely independent of the laws that have governed our lands and our people for centuries?”  
“I believe representative Marquez is somewhat confused concerning our motivations. The expungers do not deliver ‘justice’. In expunger eyes, none are guilty. However, removing these deleterious elements from not just your country, but from global society as a whole is necessity to move forward. These dangerous ersatz authorities can not be reached with diplomacy, tolerating their existence would prove deleterious to post capitulation rebuilding efforts. I am fully aware that our methods are draconian in your eyes. But rest assured that the end result of these actions will be nothing but positive for the entire human race.”

“Except those crushed underneath your feet.” Marquez’ diplomacy had melted in the face of The Emissary’s singular obstinacy. The Emissary simply continued speaking, ignoring her concerns.  
“Also, since many of you seem to be disconcerted over how our actions in Mexico were unannounced. So as a show of goodwill I will now tell you where our next major action will take us. In 72 hours our carriers will be over the geographic region known as Sub-Saharan Africa.  
The general assembly exploded in displeasure, particularly among those in the African section. The Emissary paused and waited for the anger to subside before continuing.  
“Our knowledge of this region is limited compared to our knowledge of other regions. What we do know is that the vast majority of the area is in a constant state of political upheaval. Such instability shall make proper capitulation to us impossible. Corruption among the tenuous authority figures of the region is severe. Unfortunately knowing where the deleterious elements end and the proper government begins is all but impossible. We briefly considered a mass expunging of the region. We decided against this as this manner of ‘genocide’ would be looked down upon by the global populace. So we have decided that our efforts in the region will be twofold. We will be devoting our resources towards improving infrastructure and providing the humanitarian aide that this so-called ‘third world’ desperately requires, including offering whatever assistance we can to the various United Nations peacekeeping and humanitarian aid groups in the area. The second part of this objective will be to expunge any disruptive elements impeding these proceedings. A global warning will be issued, demanding the cessation of any ongoing military activities, or the trafficking of humans or illicit drugs. We acknowledge the abundance of distinctive cultural identities in the area and our goal will be to reshape the continent into such a place where each of these groups will have a stable and developed region to call their own, until such time that global capitulation is achieved and we can begin the process of properly elevating the human condition. As always, we are here to help you.”  
“You just said you’re going to exert some kind of absolute authority in my country. We have existing governments. You can not brush us aside.” The angered voice belonged to Nigerian representative Ikemefuma Danjeme.  
“We will salvage what we can. I can assure you that. How much that is, I can say no more. At this time I have nothing further to communicate.” With this The Emissary calmly walked off the dais and resumed his post and the corner of the assembly hall, leaving the generally assembly to scramble towards fabricating a possible response to The Emissary’s bald-faced declaration of military activity over an entire continent.

April 15th.

Tuesday seemed like a good day for a sermon.  
The Reverend Ethan Lucas thought this as he finished setting up the last of the chairs in his backyard. A humble chapel to be sure; but with a new, unconventional flock, The Collective Assembly For A Better Tomorrow was lacking for resources. Hopefully his new fellows would not be shy with their patronage. Lucas wished this not for himself, but rather to better represent his new order as something noble, proud and benevolent. He knew that many would see his views as the extremist dogma of a cult leader, and it was very important to him to dispel such notions.  
He retreated into his home to change his clothing; he did not want to get sweat and grime all over his preaching suit. The first key to projecting calm and rationale is to look the part. Take on the appearance of somebody the world can take seriously and they will be that much more willing to hear you out. It was true when applying for a loan at the bank, for applying for a job, and it was the same when preaching a dogma, regardless of its actual content. Lucas would play the game, though he held it in contempt. It reeked of shallowness and the prevalence of instinct over higher functions of the mind. There was a time he believed in such a thing without question. There was a time when he didn’t question; there was a time when the world made sense. We were the sheep under the watchful eye of our Lord, hallowed be his name. It was a life he wished he could have back.  
He still remembered the news. He could never not remember it. It was just a little almost exactly 3 years ago. His wife was a worldly woman and when he broke the news to Ethan that she intended to join Peace Corps efforts in the Congo region of Africa, his only reaction was to ask why she opted for the Peace Corps rather than missionary work.  
“Because the people of Africa need clean water more than they need dogma.” This was her reply. Ethan didn’t disagree; one of the core tenets of his sermons was that good deeds outweighed dogmatic fidelity. She had been there for 3 months when the M23 rebellion began. The UN tried to evacuate the Peace Corps volunteers but they got caught in the crossfire between the M23’s and the DRCs. His wife of 15 years did not survive the encounter.  
After that; Ethan Lucas found the life he led to be hard. He had devoted himself to the service of God and man his whole life. He had believed in God’s love and God’s plan without question or complaint. He believed that good things would happen to good people and he wanted the people of his church to believe it as well. But when Pearl was taken in such a cruel and arbitrary manner; gunned down by people she sacrificed so much to help, he could no longer believe his own preaching. He could not see God as anything but disinterested at best and cruel at worst. Was this a test of his piety? Was this Pearl’s punishment for putting good deeds above the good word? Did God’s throne simply sit empty? Ethan Lucas could no longer look at his congregation and lie to them. He could no longer proselytize good works and good karma when evidence to the contrary stared him in the face every time he looked at her side of the bed. He could no longer serve a God who would do such things, so he quit the life as a reverend. In this decision, his sole regret was the feeling that he could no longer be there for his congregation; men and women he had known and counseled for years. He felt emptiness in parting from them, but he felt like a charlatan every moment he was in front of them. He sincerely hoped they could feel the love and grace of a God he felt abandoned him, if only because he did not wish them to feel his solitude and emptiness.  
Ethan Lucas felt that he would never call himself “Reverend” again. When the skies filled with The Scavengers, Ethan felt the same fear and confusion that was commonplace among the residents of Earth at the time. But when ‘The Event’ occurred, Ethan Lucas felt something that was absent from his life for 3 years; hope. The Event took place 3 years to the day of Pearl’s demise. Perhaps Ethan Lucas simply latched onto that bit of serendipity. Perhaps as he mourned the dire anniversary he had become more pliant to outside intervention. Perhaps The Emissary simply reached Ethan’s heart when his despair was at climax and he subconsciously sought hope in any form it might present itself but Ethan did not concern himself with such details, all he could feel was the warmth of hope. He felt that perhaps, perhaps these visitors to our planet could do what God would not or could not; that perhaps humanity could be genuinely elevated from their current state, which Ethan had grown to consider irrevocably flawed. He did not know how they could do it, but again he did not know how they came to arrive here in such numbers either. The Expungers spoke to something deep within Ethan Lucas; without realizing it, he had hoped for a God who took a more direct hand in the guidance of mankind, and to Ethan Lucas The Expungers fit that bill. He didn’t know why the scavengers stole the dead from their places of rest, but Ethan could not allow such concerns to interfere with his hope; he simply dismissed it as The Expungers working in mysterious way. When reports began to circulate about mysterious global vigilante activity Ethan could only attribute it to Expunger intervention. With that, Ethan felt he could aid and guide humanity again. The Expungers had no history or dogma to spread, save the simple declaration during the Event, Ethan Lucas’ only mandate was to aid the Expungers’ effort to get the United States Government to concede control to them, so that’s what he was doing. In a sense The Collective Assembly of a Better Tomorrow would be as much of a political movement as a spiritual movement; their goal was to create a social movement of sufficient size to sway Governmental policy to support capitulation. And that all began tonight.

Ethan had spoken, both directly and indirectly to an encouraging amount of people who had seen his message, either via the fliers he had taken the liberty of pasting all over the region or via social media (which at the age of 41, Ethan found to be a little awkward, but he had no intention of forsaking a possible means of communication with those who might share his inclinations) and by his estimation he would have approximately 35 parishioners to his inaugural sermon. Not that it would be much of a ‘sermon’ per se; he didn’t have a holy book or 4,000 years of history to trace back, but being able to reiterate his message; or rather their message and setting plans in motion to help them help us. He was however surprised to see the first two visitors to his ersatz chapel. Lenny and Miriam Harris were a married couple now in their 50’s that Ethan had the pleasure of guiding during his time as a Reverend for his previous church. They were the archetypal Church goers, sat in the first few rows, never missed a sermon barring severe illness, were paragons of the community and were the first to try to talk Ethan out of abdicating his position. At the time, for the first time, Ethan found their passion somewhat distasteful. He hoped they were not here to make a scene.  
“Ethan, long time no see.” Miriam was a hugger, and Ethan couldn’t help but find the hug comforting even though he knew that the chances of the two of them being here to join his new Assembly were fairly slim.  
“Ethan, it’s good to see you again.” Lenny was more reserved. He was a simple mill worker who was content with hard work and the lord’s bread on his table.  
“Lenny, Miriam. I am pleased to see you here.” Ethan lied. If circumstances were different, he would have been genuinely pleased to see them, but he knew these circumstances would prove to likely be problematic.  
Lenny took a long look at Ethan’s simple arrangements before speaking.  
“So I see you have a new congregation.”  
Ethan was content to keep it civil as long as Lenny was, but he could hear the subtle tone of disdain in his voice.  
“Yes Lenny I do.” He was tempted to ask if Lenny and Miriam were here to hear his good word, but he decided against it.  
“You got a new word to preach we hear.”  
“Yes indeed I do Lenny.” Ethan was surprised that Lenny was doing the talking.  
“Personally Ethan, I don’t know what was wrong with the old word.”  
And here it was. Of course Lenny and Miriam were here to admonish his new way. They were not the sort to tolerate alternate visions of guidance.  
“Lenny, I believe we’ve had this discussion before.” Ethan had heard all this from the two of them before. Of course, back then he hadn’t replaced their notion of Christianity with a sort of worship of alien god machines.  
“And it didn’t take then, so we’re hoping it’ll take now.” Miriam had taken the stick, so to speak. “What is this nonsense Ethan? You’re not seriously worshipping those things are you?” Miriam pointed skyward. Ethan admitted they were not his favorite part of his new spiritual guidance.  
“Did you come here to change my mind Miriam. Do you think this is a decision I made lightly? Do you think you’ll have any more chance now than you did then?”  
“We couldn’t sit by and allow somebody who meant so much to us for so long surrender his life to form some kind of sick cult Ethan.” Miriam was growing more livid.  
“The Collective Assembly is not a cult Miriam.”  
“That’s what they all say Ethan. What has happened to you? Do you think this is your ticket to Heaven Ethan? Do you think you’ll ever see Pearl again like this preaching this blasphemy Ethan?”  
Barely 2 minutes into the conversation, Miriam was already pressing Ethan’s buttons. If Miriam wanted it to get mean, Ethan could get mean.  
“Do you know what would be allowing me to see Pearl right now Miriam? Do you know? If I hadn’t preached all that nonsense about good works and if Pearl hadn’t bought into that bullshit and stayed home Miriam. That’s what would be allowing me to see Pearl right now. I would be seeing Pearl again if your God hadn’t rewarded her magnanimity with murder Miriam. Do you know what the Expungers are doing right now Miriam? They are sending unbelievable amounts of resources to the entirety of Africa in a humanitarian and stabilization effort unprecedented in human history! What did God ever do for those people? I’ll tell you what he did Miriam, he let them rot on the vine. He let them suffer and starve. He closed a blind eye as the rest of the world used them, enslaved them. He discounted all them as the Sons of Ham. His callousness turned them into the worst sorts of murderers and thieves. These are our ancestors Miriam. That is our land. And I won’t set foot in it because until 2 days ago it was fucked beyond redemption! And now it has hope Miriam. Not because of your god, but mine!” 

“Don’t you yell at her Ethan.” Lenny said picking up one of the folding chairs. “We stayed quiet when you quit our lord and savior…”  
“No you didn’t.” Ethan wasn’t about to tolerate any of Lenny’s lies.  
“No, we assented. We said our piece and we moved on to let you come to term with things in your own time. But if this is what you call coming to terms, we ain’t gonna stay quiet about this. This is nonsense Ethan and we aren’t going to let you poison people’s minds with it.” Ethan unfolded the chair and threw it aside and began with another chair.  
“What do you think you’re doing Lenny?!” Ethan reached for the phone, he didn’t want to physically confront Lenny, but calling the cops was definitely an option.  
“I’m tearing down this farce of a church Ethan. Miriam, grab some of these chairs. This nonsense ends now.”  
As Ethan was readying his phone he saw that 3 unfamiliar faces had entered his backyard; A young girl with a shock of dyed blue hair and two sleeves of tattoos, a similarly decorated man and a child of no more than 7.  
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing you fuckin’ fundies.” The girl had a mouth on her, usually Ethan would not approve, but given the circumstances he was pleased to have backup.  
“Go home little girl, this doesn’t concern you.”  
“I think it does.” The man approached Lenny without fear. The man was almost as large as Lenny, but half his age. “I don’t know what you think you’re gonna fucking accomplish here but it ends now. Get the fuck out of here, leave the Reverend alone, and don’t come back or we are gonna have some fucking problems.”  
Despite his stature Lenny was not a fighter at heart. Ethan knew this, but he wasn’t about to fight him. On the other hand, this man had clearly seen his way around a brawl or two in his time.  
“Fine. Ethan, you want to forsake us for this filth, go ahead. We won’t waste our time trying to save you anymore.”  
“The feeling is mutual Lenny.” Ethan thought as the two left his backyard. Ethan looked at his first two unconventional parishioners with a combination of appreciation and astonishment. He quickly allowed his temper and his preconceived notions to cool as he greeted them.  
“Hello new friends, welcome to the Assembly. I do not believe we have met in person. I am the Reverend Ethan Lucas, may I ask who I have the pleasure of speaking to.”  
“I’m Crystal, this is Jack. And the little one is Mark.” The child shyly waved.  
“Well I’m glad you are here to hear my message. I assume that is why you’re here, right?”  
“Shit yes. We’ve been getting shit on and judged by fundies like that all our lives. We don’t live in the best neighborhood. Bunch of dealers and meth labs and shit. We hear the event on TV, next thing you know we get news about this big fucking deal across the street. Apparently some dude just walked into a meth lab, killed everybody inside, broke all the equipment inside and left the rest to the police. It was awesome.” Crystals boisterous voice went quiet “We have some friends who fucked themselves up on that shit. The fundies didn’t do nothing but look down their damn noses, except when they used our neighborhood for photo ops. The cops did shit, unless you count taking the credit as ‘shit’. We know who’s responsible. Only the Expungers…whatever that means, have the balls to do that. Then we hear they’re fucking up those fucking cartels down in Mexico and we’re like ‘shit yes, these guys are awesome. We’ve GOT to help them out.’ Pissing off the fundies is a bonus.”  
“Expunge means ‘to remove.’” Ethan granted his first small bit of guidance. “I am grateful you are here friends. I don’t have much in the way of accommodations but please, make yourselves at home. Although I am grateful for the assistance, it is important that whenever possible, the Assembly must be both non-violent and non-antagonistic. There are many who will think us to be a cult of some manner. Now I can personally assure you I will take nothing from you that you are not fully willing and capable of giving, but belligerence will only allow them to justify their demonizing of us.”  
“We’ll do what we can, but assholes like those come back and I ain’t offering any promises.” Jack said as Ethan couldn’t help but compare Jack and Crystal to Miriam and Lenny. Similar; yet so incredibly different. Ethan could not help but be disappointed in Lenny. In the past he had claimed to value Ethan’s counsel, yet he was so quick to dismiss Crystal and Jack as ‘filth.’ For all his attempts at reaching his people, he felt that the message of brotherhood had been lost. Ethan had tried to guide them down a path of benevolence. He had tried to get them to embrace those who were different. He tried to get them to not judge harshly on appearance or social status. He had always summed up his failure towards preaching towards a largely black church; he could not judge those who had spent their lives being marginalized to open their hearts to those who would kick them aside. It still disappointed him though. Of course he had found it difficult to reach out to his fellow man as well after he heard the fate that befell Pearl in the Congo. A part of him felt as though the area did not deserve the help the expungers would give them. A part of him felt ashamed that he should be ruled by spite. Now was not a time to perpetuate the circle of hurt of hatred. Now was a time to heal. 

As the hour progressed, more and more of Ethan Lucas’ new flock filed into his backyard chapel. Ethan Lucas could tell that most of them from circumstances. Disaffected, disowned and youthful, these were people who had felt failed by their world and saw the need to believe in a genuine sort of chance rather than the politician’s statistics and the church’s promises. There were some who seemed, for lack of a better word, troubled. These were the sort of people who were likely looking for something closer to a cult than what Ethan Lucas was offering. But this was just Ethan’s first impression, and if Ethan turned them away then he would be no different than Lenny or Miriam. Besides, better to keep them where he could see them. He could tell a few were rebelling against their upbringing. Their presence here went beyond being failed by the institutions that came before, they were here to actively spite people within those organizations, regardless of whether or not they believed in the message and the cause Ethan was advocating. This too was acceptable; hopefully Ethan could sway them, if he could not he could at least hope they would find a way to call their own rather than simply seeing a way that was not theirs to follow. Ethan also saw more members of his old parish. Julie and Edgar were married young, he had served as the minister in their ceremony about a year before he left the parish. They had grown up in his church, they had married in his church, and they had weathered the stones and arrows of the more conservative members of the church for bearing a child out of wedlock. By Ethan’s count, the child would be about 4 by now. The child was not with them.  
“Hello Reverend, it’s been a long time.” Julie was not a hugger; Ethan could tell she was apprehensive. This must be quite a culture shock for her. She was always a timid character. Ethan doubted she was here to pick a fight.  
“Yes indeed it has Julie. Tell me, what brings you to my humble cathedral today?”  
It was Edgar, rather than Julie who replied.  
“We had seen your name on the fliers and on Facebook. We heard you were setting up some kind of new assembly. We had to see it for ourselves.”  
“And see it you have. Do you have any further curiosities that I can help you resolve?”  
Julie replied.  
“Well, we were wondering if we could sit in.”  
Ethan was elated.  
“Well of course you can my friend. That is of course why I set all this up.” Ethan looked about and realized he might have underestimated the initial turnout. There were at least 50 here and he was still a half hour from the appointed starting time. “Though I fear you may have trouble finding a seat. I could only get my hands on so many.”  
“Thank you Reverend.” Julie said.  
“For the record Reverend, you were always our guy.” Edgar spoke up. “The guy they got at the church now is ok but really you were always our guy. A lot of people felt fit to judge us for what we did when we were younger. We thought of them as our friends and family; they thought of us as sinners. It was really frustrating because you were the guy who chilled them all out. Now I hear you’re worshipping those robot things. I don’t know if I believe it that. But I do know we believe in you. Thank you Reverend.” With that Julie and Edgar found their way into the general assembly.  
By the time Ethan Lucas’ sermon began, he approximated there were 70 heads at his inaugural assembly. This was a staggering amount by his reckoning, the idea that so many people who assemble for a belief he acknowledged was rather extreme was amazing. Did these people feel the potential of a glorious new age as he did, or were they simply disillusioned by the answers that were given to them to the point. Given the number of people present, it was very likely there was no one answer to that question. With those thoughts in mind, Ethan Lucas took the dais and addressed his people.  
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the first gathering of the Collective Assembly for a Better Tomorrow; I am the Revered Ethan Lucas and let me be the first to thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming here tonight. It does my heart good that there are so many people willing to open their hearts and minds and embrace what will very likely be a turbulent time in human history. In a conventional sermon, a preacher like me will often speak with absolute certainty in his words, he or she will attempt to sway you by the virtue of their absolute conviction in their rhetoric. But ladies and gentlemen, I come to you today as somebody who simply can no longer preach like that. These are days of uncertainty. This is a life of uncertainty. In such days mindless supplication will not avail you. It will not avail me. It will not avail this assembly. We must approach life going forward with the ability to think and act for yourselves. Not that faith is unnecessary. No, faith is still necessary. You must have faith that those flying scavengers looming above our heads even now have our best interests in heart when they swoop from their tireless patrol to claim those of us who have fallen. You must believe that the various acts of vigilante justice being conducted around the world are done with the intent of making this a better world for all of us. You must have faith that the military intervention in Mexico and Africa will, at the end of the day an event that will bring unprecedented peace, stability and prosperity to those beleaguered nations. Believe this not because they tell you to. Have faith in this not because I tell you to. Do not even believe in your heart alone. Know it to be true in your mind. Know that change can be harsh, it can be brutal. The people the Expungers are removing are people who can not be swayed with kindness or altruism or even politics. Against such people only the sword can bring peace. The Expungers are that sword.

“Now ladies and gentlemen, I do not have in front of me a book of the collective wisdom of the Emissary and his brethren. I do not have in front me 4,000 years of dogma, of theology. There are no rituals, no teachings, and no commandments, save for this one. The Emissary preached it in the event and what else can we do but follow this one simple bit of guidance. Spread the word of our kindness. Let the world around you know of our sincerity. So when you go back to your home I can only ask of you what The Emissary asks of you; do as I did. Let your friends, your neighbors and your families know that though we live in chaotic confusing times, there is something we can do to affect our fates. And what we can do is to let The Emissary, let the Expungers know that we are willing to capitulate. That we wish to let them help us; Let them know that we want what they have to offer. But I must make this point very clear ladies and gentlemen. Please, for the love of yourselves, for the love of this Assembly, for the love of the change The Expungers promise and as a personal favor to me, please remember that we are not their sword. Violence is not our way. Belligerence is not our way. We are not a gang, we are not an army or a cult. We do not force people to take our point of view. The people out there will only look to us, will only look to the Expungers for answers and guidance if we make it, in no uncertain terms, that we are here to help. We are not here to bully. We are not here to crusade. We, much like The Expungers, are simply here to help. Now ladies and gentlemen this is the end of the sermon part of my assembly. Like I said, as of right now I do not have the wealth of history and knowledge that other conventional religions have. So now I would like to turn the podium over to you. For those of you who have heard my message and have had something resonate in your heart and in your mind and in your soul, you may consider yourself part of our Assembly, and this assembly is a fellowship, a neighborhood unto itself; a family in some senses. Let us all be friends here. Let us know the names of our brethren and the contents of our hearts.  
As Ethan Lucas turned over the dais to his Assembly he couldn’t help but feel nervous and apprehensive. Despite his sermon, he know that a regrettable truth about humans is that sometimes they have to be led by a strong present of certainty. But he could no longer lie about such things. Feeling like a charlatan is what made him abandon his previous position. He couldn’t speak of certainly or absolutes. In a dark, fearful corner of his mind he was forced to acknowledge the possibility The Expungers simply were not here to help; that this very assembly may well be aiding their conquest of his planet. Ethan promised that if that time came he would do what was necessary; he would fight The Expungers until his last breath, and he would tell his congregation he was wrong and to do the same. But today was not the time to concern himself with that sort of thing. Today was a day of fellowship and beginnings, and it did Ethan’s heart well to see new members of his Assembly take to the dais to say their piece.  
“My name is Mary.” The girl looked to be a stranger to public speaking. Everybody could plainly see her discomfort with being in front of a crowd. Ethan was gladdened to know that somebody like her would go through the trouble of screwing up the courage to speak in such a situation. “I’ve always felt small. I was the youngest of 8 kids. I always got the hand-me downs. I always got lost in the crowd of my family. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, I do…I love all of them and I know they love me. But being the tiniest voice in such a loud house made me feel small and unimportant. I grew up and I found I was good at math. I loved statistics. I still do, I know it seems like a weird thing to say right now but statistics made me feel small. In the grand scheme of things I never felt like more than a one with innumerable zeros in front of me and a dot at the end. I felt the world was wrong. I felt like the people in charge just wanted to move the numbers in a way that benefitted them without seeing the people behind the number. I heard of death tolls from wars and natural disasters both at home and abroad and I felt helpless. I saw numbers, big numbers. Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands. Occasionally I would see a face and I would realize that face was just a one with innumerable zeros in front of it and a dot at the end. I felt powerless because I couldn’t even help one. I could not hold back the tide of war .I could not stop the earthquakes, the tornados, the monsoons. I could not stop anything. I was advised to think globally and act locally but I couldn’t just act locally. I am a citizen of the world. I wanted to save the world. And more and more I felt the world couldn’t be saved. Then the Expungers came. They scared me then, and they scare me now. And I think of how many innocents must be caught in the crossfire in Mexico. How many civilians will find themselves on the wrong side of their efforts in Africa and it still scares me. But for the first time I felt like I could be something more that an 1 with a bunch of zeros in front of me. I counted our heads and I realized there are 73 people here. Here I am one of 73. I am not an Expunger. We are not Expungers, but as much as I fear them I realize that now, more than ever the world can be changed. It can be improved. Maybe it will take an act of God, and maybe that’s what they are. Maybe we don’t have to fear them. Maybe in the end, maybe we’ll see a world that’s better. I’m sorry I’m rambling.” Mary stormed away from the podium abruptly. Ethan couldn’t help but agree that Mary’s point didn’t quite congeal into a singular message. But all that meant was that she required guidance.  
The testimonials continued.

“…All around the world, people in power are wondering how they, themselves can benefit from this change in events. They don’t give a damn about us. We don’t give a damn about ‘us’. How can we? Every molecule in our bodies is charged to compete for the limited resources of a limited world. If anybody but move us beyond that, it’s these things.”  
“…I’ve seen an Expunger break up a slave ring first hand. I was up in Baltimore when I found myself in the wrong neighborhood. I got grabbed. I thought my life was over until one of the girls that got grabbed with me killed each of the fuckers who were holding us hostage. Unfortunately one of them tried to take a hostage. The Expunger didn’t even break stride. I am still eternally grateful for what they did, but that’s girl’s still dead. I’m here both to join and to warn. I know we don’t like hearing the phrase ‘greater good’. But that’s what the Expungers’ aim is. And it might not always be about me…or you…or you…it will only ever be about us. I’m ok with that, are you?”  
“The fucking cartels drove us here…you Americans have been treating us like cattle. But now the Expungers are kicking ass and maybe after it’s all over we can go home. But until then we’ll help them by helping you. I guess.”  
“War is coming! By being here you’ve all had your eyes opened. You know which side will win and you’re making damn sure to curry favor with them!” (Ethan decided he should keep an eye on this one).  
“You can’t fix a problem working within a system if the system doesn’t work. For every step forward we make, 100 new problems arise and we’re stuck moving backwards. We need to think outside the damn box.”  
“…the people who are all making a stink about the scavengers care more about the dead and the unborn than the living. So they’re messing up our graveyards, big deal. We have bigger problems to deal with and they can help us.”  
Edgar took the podium.  
“I’m not sure what to think about this Expunger business yet. But I know Ethan Lucas. He was my old Reverend back at the Lutheran church up in Pinehearst. Me and my wife always considered ourselves godly folk but we had a moment of indiscretion 5 years ago. We were dumb and she got in trouble. A lot of the older members of the church pointed fingers but while they were doing that, Ethan Lucas opened his arms to us. He presided over our wedding. He made sure that the other people knew that it wasn’t their job to judge us. Like I said, this whole god machine thing confuses the heck out of me, I don’t know if I trust them, not yet. But I trust Ethan Lucas, and you should too.”  
“...the cops, the soldiers, the churches, the government, they only give a damn about us when it makes them look good. They only care when they want something out of us. Fuck them all. If the Expungers are gonna help us by wiping those fuckers out I’m not even sure I care if they take us with them.” It was Crystal’s turn to speak, and her testimonial more than any other worried Ethan. He hoped he could temper the girl’s flames.  
Soon the testimonials ended and the assembly once again became more of a social gathering than a church of any kind. That sort of thing was bound to happen when he didn’t have much dogma to preach. Ethan Lucas knew that he would need to give them a reason to continue assembling though. Because Ethan Lucas knew that the important thing in all this wasn’t the dogma, it was cultivating a community. Assembling like-minded people together to work towards a goal, that was the important thing. Soon plans would have to be hatched. Soon he would have to take this mass of human potential and point it in a productive direction. But Lucas knew that even though these people assembled here today because on some level they believed in the Expungers, it was very clear that they were very different, both in temperament and in motivation. Some were lost and confused. Some were idealistic, others, many others, were angry. Anger would not serve them well here. Anger would be a detriment. They can not advance into any sort of grand future The Expungers promised for us with such wrath contamination in their hearts. Ethan Lucas hoped they would not do anything foolish. As Ethan was pondering this problem, Edgar and Julie approached him.  
“That was great Reverend Lucas. I knew you were still you.” Julie sounded jubilant.  
“Well of course, who else would I be?”  
“Well I mean we were kinda afraid that everything that happened would change you.”  
“Well I don’t know how to tell you this Julie, but it did. I don’t think you can go through that sort of ordeal without being changed in some way.”  
“I know, but you’re still…you. You haven’t lost your faith in humanity. You haven’t stopped believing in us. You still advocate peace and love in the face of a world that can be scary and cruel.”  
Ethan was elated by her seal of approval.  
“It hasn’t been easy Julie. There are time when I’ve allowed hate to rule my heart. But with everything that’s happened, despite how genuinely frightening it is, I can feel hope again. Despair is what allows hate and sadness to rule your heart. And I did despair. I can only hope to reach others, teach them the hope I feel.”  
“You’ve done a good job so far man.” Edgar reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. “Here, get some more chairs.”  
Ethan blanched at the amount.

“Edgar, this is $500. I appreciate donations as much as the next Reverend, but you have a child to raise.”  
“Don’t worry about it. I just got a big bonus. It’s better in your hands. You’re doing good work here.”  
Ethan reluctantly took the money. He should have fought harder he knew, but his accommodations were proving inadequate.  
“What are you doing for a living these days that you have that kind of money burning a hole in your pocket.” The possibility of illegal activity arose in Ethan’s head, but he wanted to believe in Edgar.  
“I’m a contractor. We’ve got some pretty big projects on the horizon, so yeah I’ve got cash to spare.”  
“Well ok, if you insist my friend. Thank you very much. I wish I could offer blessings and benedictions, but having such tangible gods makes that rather…superficial.”  
“We have to get going. I don’t want to put out our babysitter any more than we have to.” Edgar reached out his hand, which Ethan gladly shook. “We will talk to you later Reverend.”  
“It was good to see you here Edgar.” Ethan said, his spirits raised.  
Over the next hour or two, Ethan co-mingled with his Assembly. Ethan realized that one of the things his new spirituality lacked was the blind certainty that allowed other religious leaders to win over their flocks. Ethan begrudgingly accepted that sometimes some people can only be won over with passion and conviction; two things Ethan could only conjure in limited amounts. In order to assure he had a ‘flock’ to speak of was to make them believe in not just the Expungers, but him as well. He offered counsel when he could, and social graces in situations where counsel wasn’t directly called for. The post-sermon assembly lasted about 2 hours, at which point they had funneled to the point where Ethan again found himself alone in his back yard, his pocket swelling with most money than he had anticipated given his lack of a formal collection. Hopefully it was enough to rent a space next time.  
The other members of the Assembly had aided him in putting away most of the furniture before leaving, with hope in his heart, Ethan took to putting away the rest.

April 17th

Jeremiah Jacobs always knew the world was going to go to hell.  
Jeremiah Jacobs loved being right. He couldn’t help but swell with pride as he gazed about his demesne. What was once a simple farm in rural North Carolina had become what would eventually become the last bastion of sanity and safety in a world gone mad. 3 years worth of dry goods. 3 years worth of fresh water. 3 years worth of various sundries (toilet paper, toothbrushes, dish soap, and the like). Enough arable land and livestock for the compound to be self-sufficient when the initial supplies dried up. A solar powered generator that could produce enough electricity for certain basic functions. And of course, enough guns to arm every man, woman and child in the compound, as well as hunt for game to fortify their meat stocks. All in all the population of the compound was 14 people. Jeremiah, his wife Casey, their 3 sons Luke, Michael and Paul, their wives Christine, Claire and Nicole, 2 of his 4 still living brothers, Samuel and Ephraim, their wives Cora and Cassie and Ephraim’s 2 daughters Tina and Emily. They were all taught from a young age that the outside world was a thing that would eat you alive if you let it. The biggest lesson Jeremiah’s daddy ever taught him and his brothers; don’t let it. Use it if you gotta, but you can only rely on you and yours. They didn’t know how precisely civilization as they knew it would end; nuclear war, terrorist occupation, military coup, global pandemic, chemical weapon attack of unprecedented magnitude, Jeremiah just always knew it would end. It would end in his lifetime, and he wasn’t about to let those he loved and cared about get caught up in it.  
“Of course.” Jeremiah thought to himself as he looked skyward, the swarms of scavengers barely able to be seen in the noon sun. “I didn’t think it would be that.” Jeremiah looked downward as he carried a bucket into the cow pen. It wasn’t time for their milking yet, but Jeremiah didn’t need the rest of the family to hear what he was about to do. When he was sure there was nobody else in listening range, he set the bucket down, crouched over, and promptly began to vomit. He didn’t know what was causing it, but the fits were starting to become more frequent. This was the second time this week that Jeremiah had to make a visit to the cow pen. From his childhood Jeremiah had learned to never puke in an outhouse if it could be helped. Besides, the family might hear him and start poking their noses into the situation. Jeremiah didn’t need them to start worrying and he definitely didn’t need them to start on about going to the damn doctor. Jeremiah didn’t even know if there was a doctor to go to. The world was clearly going to hell and civilization was probably breaking down right now. He was sure to keep two snipers in the guard towers, just in case any looters thought to find the Jacobs Combine to be a ripe target.  
Once his purge was complete, he made his way to the pig pen. Pigs would eat anything edible and even a few things that weren’t. They were fat, mean sumbitches and Jeremiah couldn’t wait to make bacon out of ‘em. But they were useful for getting rid of evidence; in this case “evidence” being Jeremiah’s puke bucket. He dumped the bucket’s contents into the slop bucket then went over to the water pump to wash out the remainder of the evidence.  
Of course, he knew he couldn’t have gotten that far without running into somebody. “Somebody” in this case being his wife Casey. Casey was a strong woman, she churned out 3 of the strongest boys Waukeekee County had ever seen. Her rearing years were past her of course, but Jeremiah still valued her as a solid second-in-command of the operation. She was a firm taskmaster, which was just what this kind of operation needed. And here Jeremiah could see the shadow of her large frame coming after him as he washed the bucket out.  
“What the hell you need for Jeremiah?” Of course the recriminations began immediately. What business of hers was it if he wanted to wash out a damn bucket?  
“I just slopped the pigs. Bucket was getting’ rancid and I didn’t feel like fightin’ off horseflies.”  
“Paul just slopped the pigs a few hours ago. They ain’t need to eat yet.”  
“Well I did not know that. I don’t know everything that’s goin’ on around here at all times. That’s your job.”  
“Alright, alright.” Casey found the behavior suspicious, but suspicious of what she couldn’t puzzle out. “Anyway, Ephraim’s playin’ with the damn radio. He’s got more news on what’s going on.”  
“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute.” Jeremiah said as he finished washing out his bucket. Ever since the swarms started to appear Ephraim had been playing with the radio, eager to hear whatever news he could from it. Unfortunately reception had been spotty in the area so the information he was able to glearn from the radio was slapdash and lackluster. Nobody was monitoring the radio upon the broadcast of the event, so the motivations of The Expungers were mostly alien to the residents of the Jacobs compound. Jeremiah had always told himself that he didn’t give a good goddamn how the world went to hell, so long as he wasn’t around for the ride. But he was forced to admit he was a little curious about what exactly was going on out there. That, and looking skyward towards the swarms made him realize that despite his best efforts, he was not as safe as he could have liked. And unfortunately building a dome was beyond their abilities.

Inside the main farmhouse’s common room, Jeremiah saw that Ephraim was gathered in the common room with his wife, their brother Michael and Ephraim’s two daughters. They were trying to listen with the radio as Ephraim fiddled with the settings. The sound coming from the radio was unclear, but it was audible. A woman was reporting on global events.  
“…we have been getting reports from people in Nigeria, Ethiopia, The Congo, even as far southward as The United Arab Emirates and South Africa that The Expungers are hitting the area in force. There has allegedly been fighting throughout the continent, but given that reporting from the area is spotty at best it’s hard to tell who precisely the Expungers are fighting and why. There have been multiple reports however that the machines deployed by The Expungers in these battles are similar in design to the machines deployed in Mexico. There have been noticed of the giant white war machines marching throughout the continent. No fewer than a dozen of the massive carrier ships have been confirmed. There have been isolated reports of seeing the squid-like expungers in the sky but so far we can not confirm that conclusively.”  
“Giant robots? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Ephraim swore directly at the radio.  
“They can’t hear you dad.” Tina was 11, the older of the two daughters and second youngest of the residents of the Jacobs compound. One of Jeremiah and Ephraim’s biggest concerns was what they were going to do with both her and her sister when they got old and realized there were no eligible bachelors in the compound.  
Regardless, Ephraim was only listening to the broadcast.  
“We have also been getting words from numerous charitable and humanitarian aid groups in the area that their numbers have been bolstered by aid from the otherworldly life forms. Although we have not at this time been able to see visual proof of these Expunger aid workers reports insist they are superficially human in appearance, but stand from 9 to 10 feet tall. They have allegedly been aiding in every facet of humanitarian aide from assembling infrastructure to escorting supply caravans, to building water filtration systems, to providing medical aid. We will provide you with further news as it develops, but getting reliable information from that corner of the world is proving to be difficult at best. We hope you stay tuned as later on in the hour we will be talking to Dr. Hans Guilford, a Dr. of political science who will be discussing his book “An Unsolvable Problem? Political Instability In The Congo.” Hopefully he can shed some light on what precisely is happening there and how the intervention of these machines could possibly change the balance of power in the region. Stay tuned.”  
“Africa? Fucking Africa? Who the fuck cares about what happens in that goddamn shithole. This is a goddamn American radio station. TELL US ABOUT AMERICA YOU COMMIE COCKSUCKERS!” Ephraim was livid.  
“Ephraim Jacobs what did I TELL you about swearing like that in front of our children.” Cassie and Casey had similar names, but were different otherwise. Casey was the kind of woman who could wrestle a steer down in one hand and punch a drunk out with the other. Cassie was generally more timid and frail. Usually a non-presence in the compound. She did her jobs without complaint but had just enough backbone to keep Ephraim in line.  
“Woman this is no time to care about swearing, the world is being invaded by dang killer robots from space!” Despite Ephraim’s objections, Jeremiah noticed his ‘soft’ curses.  
“You gonna lose your composure over a bunch of bugs Ephraim? They ain’t botherin’ nobody. I don’t even know what they’re doing up there.”  
“They’re waiting to get the signal, then they’re gonna fly down and take us all out, that’s what they’re doing up there. And now I’m hearin’ reports about big ones attacking Africa for some god dang reason. Jeremiah, we gotta shoot those things down before they take us out.”  
Jeremiah didn’t disagree with Ephraim on principle, but Jeremiah was the responsible, reasonable one of the two.  
“They’re too high up Ephraim. Even if they weren’t, we don’t got enough bullets to take down all of ‘em. We’re gonna need to munitions. Wasting them just to piss off a swarm of robotic insects isn’t good thinking.”  
“So we just sit around and wait for em to take us out?”  
“No, they start coming down, we hit up the fallout shelter.”  
“Fine, dammit. I still don’t…”  
“Ephraim, language!” Cassie wasn’t leaving it alone.  
“AAARGH.” Ephraim stormed off. Ephraim was a hothead and rather stupid to boot, but he generally knew better than to piss Jeremiah off. He’ll probably drunk it off in the munitions shed like usual. For Jeremiah’s part, even though they were equipped well enough to keep away any looters, disorganized militia, or government agents who came snooping around he didn’t think his defenses would hold out long against giant robots. Jeremiah estimated that it was all he do for the time being to start homebrewing some explosives and hope he’d only have to pick off a stray or two when The Expungers inevitably paid America a visit.

April 17th

The posturing, self-interest, acrimony and over negativity of this day’s session of the United Nations General Assembly was starting to wear on Alexis DeSousa’s nerves. She was a career politician; she should have been used to this kind of thing; but it seemed as though even the prospective end of the world could not put an end to the divisiveness between people.  
For the entire day the bulk of the UN’s discussion were what to do about the situations in Mexico and Africa. Naturally the representatives from both regions expected their countries to receive not just the bulk of the attention from the UN’s resources, but the bulk of military and civilian aid directly from the representative countries. So most of the day was spent listening to Mexican representative Carla Marquez and the African delegates, the most notable of which have been Nigerian representative Ikemefuma Danjeme, the DRC representative Nathanial Kuruta and the Rwandan representative Gregory Bakari slinging arrows back and forth with absolutely no headway being made.  
“How long do we have to pay into this organization before we start seeing something in return?” Carla was presently speaking. Alexis had always found her difficult to get along with. Now that her country was in legitimate peril, she was completely unbearable. “How much of our resources, how many of our manpower has to go into the African continent before we start looking around and realizing that our problem is global and The Expungers are a far greater greater threat to the politically stable regions of the world than to the African nations. Although I empathize with the collective representatives of the African nation, our aid there will mean nothing if the insurgency that is being waged on the same side of the planet that this very conference is being held is overrun?”  
“Conventional western logic. Help Africa only when it is convenient to you.” Kuruta was, in DeSousa’s eye, a corrupt man of a corrupt regime and the council knew it. He was able to angle for the creation of the Force Intervention Brigade two years ago, a decision which was criticized by many at the time for being the first UN peacekeeping to aggressively seek and destroy seditious elements in the DRC. DeSousa was not fond of the FIB two years ago, as compromising the UN’s vision to preserve a corrupt government grated on her and she was even less fond of it now as Kuruta acting as though the assembly never did anything for him or his country. As much as DeSousa wished he wouldn’t Kuruta continued. “Did you ever stop to think of what will happen when The Expungers take over the entire nation? Do you really wish for them to have an entire nation’s untapped resources at their disposal? All the Expungers have done in Mexico is kill some drug dealers. You should be thanking them.”  
“By your logic all The Expungers are doing in Africa are killing a bunch of drug runners, child slavers and corrupt politicians, and they’re taking better care of your people than you or your regime ever has. By your logic The UN should be thanking the Expungers for doing our job for us. Because apparently you seem to think that babysitting your country is our sole responsibility.” Marquez was starting to get personal, which wasn’t terribly diplomatic of her.  
“Order, order.” Assembly President Robert Prudhomme had obviously heard enough of this petty sniping and had decided to take matters into his own hands. “Representative Marquez, representative Kuruta, I believe we have heard enough from both sides for the time being. While you are discussing ‘who’ should get our aid, the more pressing question at hand is ‘how’ will we offer our aid. Quite frankly Expunger technology is unlike anything we have ever witnessed before. It defies comprehension how they were able to assemble an army of such magnitude, with seemingly unlimited resources at their disposal, and how they were able to deploy these forces right under our noses without anybody noticed until the beginning of this month. Our peacekeeping forces are simply not up to the task of fighting these threat alone. So I would ask each country in the general assembly; at this point in time it is very clear that we are entering a period of unprecedented crisis. And I would ask that each and every single country in attendance to stop looking only to your own borders. I have no doubt that it will take the combined military might and resources of every country on this planet to properly combat this threat. Although the United Nations is a union devoted to negotiation and diplomacy first, it has become abundantly clear…” Prudhomme paused to gaze menacingly at The Emissary, who did not give any response in return. “that Expungers are not interested in diplomacy in any way we are capable of understanding it, we will have to fight. Bring that message to the military leaders of your respective countries. Let them know this is a planetary threat, and it must be addressed by the planet as a whole Now, if anybody has anything particularly useful to say in the waning minutes of this assembly by all means say it now. Otherwise I believe now would be a good time to adjourn for the day.”

DeSousa only half-listened to the President’s plea. Her gaze was fixed on The Emissary. To this date, some two weeks after his arrival, to the best of her knowledge, no single member of the assembly had attempted to directly engage the enigmatic representative of the machine men. Some she knew were simply scared of the man who remained utterly motionless except when addressing the council. Some didn’t want to risk being seen as a colluder. Others had made unspoken arrangement to disregard The Emissary’s existence whenever possible. Others, like Marquez, would as soon shoot him as speak with him. Even DeSoussa couldn’t blame her for that. For whatever the Emissary said; there were still massive death machines patrolling her country’s borders. But Desousa would know about him, about them. She had made her decision, once the session was adjourned, she would attempt to speak with The Emissary directly.  
She would not have to wait long. It had been a long day with little accomplished and the collective delegates were starting to feel the strain of this protracted assembly. Talk had begun about delegating the individual problems the Expungers posed to the sub-divisions of the UN, but countries with no voice in those subcommittees protested wildly. It would take time for the assembly hall to fill out as friendly delegates would often take the take the time to speak with each other ‘off the record.’ DeSousa sat calmly and waited for her opportunity. She hoped nobody would see her approach; she admitted to herself that her approach to the situation could be interpreted as skullduggery but really that was the fault of the other countries of the UN council for attempting to ignore or give up on a problem without making some effort to understand it.  
“That was a hell of a session.” The voice, coming from behind DeSousa, was one she knew well. Andrew Clark, representative of the United States, a generally tactful and shrewd diplomat who had, surprisingly to DeSousa, not spoken in defense of Marquez and Mexico in the day’s proceedings. DeSousa found the man agreeable, which was a good thing given that he frequently spoke with her after the sessions adjourned and that he was the representative of her country’s only geographical neighbor.  
“Yeah, I’m surprised I didn’t hear you say your piece.”  
“Well as of right now, America has no piece to speak.”  
“Really, I thought you’d be coming down on Marquez’s side.”  
“Yeah, you’d think that. But officially America is concerning itself primarily with the Expunger activity within our own borders. Unofficially a lot of brass are actually pleased with the turn of events taking place in Mexico.”  
“Really, I’d think they’d be terrified.”  
“Oh, a lot of em are. The defense department got the gears moving the second the obelisks showed up. That military budget of ours is finally being used towards something productive…at least I hope so. But a lot of others are actually pretty pleased with the whole Mexico thing. We never liked the whole Mexican Drug War thing. It destabilized one of our direct neighbors but we couldn’t directly intervene without taking huge amounts of heat from both Mexico’s citizens and our own citizens. There weren’t many politicians willing to support that unless we could paint the drug cartels as international terrorists. A lot of people feel like at the moment, The Expungers are doing our job for us. The Coast Guard has seized millions upon millions of contraband as it just floated in the water. And there was a concern that the rampant vigilante activity would cause our own crime institutions to militarize like the Mexican cartels, but they’re going to be too scared now that we’re seeing how mercilessly the Expungers bear down on that kind of it. So far now, we’re keeping our heads low and doing our best to make sure that if they decide to breach our borders, we’re prepared.”  
“Well so much for a world of unity then.” DeSousa briefly thought to herself, but dismissed the thought. Even Prudhomme knew that the odds of a country simply disregarding its own borders in favor of the borders of other was not only naïve, but impractical. Expecting the United States military to assemble en masse and send their troops halfway over the world when the threat was knocking on their door was something that was simply unrealistic. As she was dismissing the thought from her mind, Clark posed her a question.  
“So, what is Canada’s approach to the Expungers?”  
“The Canadian Government’s priorities are civil defense and knowledge.” DeSousa said this realizing that her country was no less guilty of insular thinking in times of crisis. “We really know nothing about the Expungers other than the very little we have been told. It is impossible to fight an enemy that we are incapable of understanding. We know they are not invincible. We saw the footage of one of the big ones being taken down by that drone strike in Mexico. We’re hoping that Mexico will be able to reclaim what’s left of it, analyze it and share the results to the world. They could be made of something simple, like Titanium, or they could be a wholly new alloy unknown on Earth. If we could find a way to synthesize something like that on a mass scale our chances of being able to resist them grow exponentially.”  
“Well, I don’t know if Mexico is in that position right now. Representative Marquez does not seem amenable to request.” Clark looked around the rapidly emptying assembly hall. “Oh thank God, I was expected to get an earful from her over not going to bat for her country. We harbor her countries damn refugees and disaffected and she still wants more. Well, it was nice speaking with you DeSousa.”  
The Mexico jab irked DeSousa, but not enough to compromise civility.  
“You too Clark, take care.”

DeSousa made a point of waiting until Clark left the hall to stand up. The hall was empty, except for The Emissary, who was in literal standby mode. DeSousa didn’t know if he would even respond to her. He had seemed less than cooperative when the assembly as a whole tried to get an answer out of him. He hoped he would be more agreeable to a one-on-one meeting. She cautiously approached the man, hoping there were no eyes on her that she couldn’t see.  
“Excuse me…Emissary.” No reply. “I am Alexis DeSousa, UN General Assembly representative of Canada. I, and our people, are greatly curious about this new force that has entered the global stage and I was wondering if I, as representative of my people, could ask you some questions so that we could hopefully reach a better understanding.”  
“Fifteen days.” The Emissary spoke and shock surged through DeSousa’s body. “It took fifteen days for an individual representative of the UN Assembly to address me directly. That’s longer than I anticipated. Before you begin your interrogation, might I ask you a question? Why do you think it took so long for somebody to reach out to me on an individual basis?”  
DeSousa composed herself.  
“I think above all else, people are scared of you. I mean, you did kill several members of our security detail to get in here in the first place. And you did it effortlessly. You can’t expect people to be comfortable around you after that.”  
“It was a regrettable necessity. My arrival here had to be expedited. By now you should be aware that I wish you no harm.”  
DeSousa thought of Kuruta and his flagrant corruption.  
“Your people have ‘Expunged’ government officials in the past. You made a veiled threat to representative Marquez. Your motivations are in question.”  
“Are they? I reassured Marquez she would not need to be expunged for the time being. She is a acceptable leader of her people; hopefully she will remain that way. And even if she wasn’t, even if she needed to be expunged, she need not fear me. I am the Emissary. I do not do that.”  
“Does Nathanial Kuruta need to fear being expunged?”  
“Nathanial Kuruta, representative of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, is a fierce advocate of the Christian populace in the country and active oppressor of the Islamic populace. He has accepted numerous bribes from the military, police forces and private citizens to overlook atrocities performed against the Islamic population. He has ties to slavers and other criminal organizations within the area. His solitary goal in the United Nations General Assembly is to assure UN support for his regime at the expense of all others. His story is not atypical in the region. Due to the instability in the region, at this time expunging him is not an option. He must be made to see the error of his ways and must redouble his efforts to make the DRC a stable country of justice and prosperity for both the Christian and Muslim populations, as well as the minor other ethnic and religious populaces in the region until such a time when proper regions can be allotted to them. If Nathanial Kuruta decides against this course of action, he will be expunged.”  
DeSousa was stunned to hear of Kuruta’s various crimes being laid bare.  
“How do you know all of this?”  
“The sources of our intelligence can not be revealed at this time. Certainly you understand, your country has its own secrets, yes?”  
“How can we trust your information, which seems at times to be practically omniscient, if you won’t sure your resources with us.”  
“Although we would prefer trust, it is not necessary. We know this information is correct, that is enough.”  
“What if Kuruta does all those things but refuses to capitulate to you, will you expunge him then?”  
“Should such actions be performed, we will assume that Kuruta and his government will have already capitulated.”  
“What ‘does’ capitulation entail exactly? We don’t understand. We assume it means giving up our autonomy and allowing you to rule us. But what else is there? You’re stealing our dead already? Do you intend to steal our living?”  
“To clarify, we are not stealing your dead. We are simply borrowing them…if you prefer to frame it like that. I assure you that your loved ones will be returned to you in due time. As far as capitulation is concerned, it differs from region to region, but the first facet is to yield your military forces to us. We will take control of your armed forces and direct them toward civil improvement and defense again non-capitulating militaries. We will take control of your economic institutions and redistribute their wealth to where it is required. We will allow a measure of self-rule, so long as it does not coincide with our interests. Rest assured, our interests are in your best interests. The ultimate goal is to create a stable infrastructure into which we can begin to implement our reforms. The end result of this will be a state in which the human condition will be elevated beyond the meanness of your present existence.”  
“How can we trust that you are acting in our best interest?”  
“I would like to believe our actions would engender some trust. Have we not gone through great pains to remove harmful, dangerous elements from your societies? Are we not currently engaged in the a humanitarian effort of unprecedented magnitude in a section of the world that to this date has known nothing but poverty, starvation and suffering? What else can we do to make you trust us.”  
“You’ve landed military forces in the regions your trying to help. How can we perceive that as anything but aggression?”  
“Unfortunately we acknowledge that regardless of whether or not we’ve come here to conquer or to help, our ends would not change our means. Beyond that we only have our word, for now.”  
DeSousa trembled as she prepared to ask her next question.  
“Most countries will not cede rule to you regardless of your good intent. When the time comes, will you invade these countries with the sole intent of forcing capitulation.”  
“It is a last resort, but yes we are prepared to do that. We will however do everything in our power to assure minimal damage to your civilian populaces and infrastructure. In such a war, decimating your military and expunging seditious elements would take priority.”  
DeSousa was not greatly comforted by The Emissary’s assurance. She hesitated over asking the next question, but was eventually able to push it out.  
“If a country were to capitulate, could they keep it secret?”  
“No, such an action would engender mistrust. All capitulation must be public.”  
“When you say you will ‘elevate’ the human condition, what do you mean by that?”  
“At this time I am not capable of answering that question.”  
“People have nightmares about being transformed into human-machine abominations; they will never capitulate if they think your goal is to tear them apart and rebuild them.”  
“We do not intend to ‘tear’ anybody apart.”  
DeSousa reached into her handbag, removed her phone and pulled up a video. The video showed one of the Expunger hulks being destroyed by a drone strike and innumerable black metallic humanoids emerging from its husk.  
“Those black things that came out of the husk look humanoid. Is that what you’re doing with the bodies? Are you turning them into shock troops for your war? Is this what you mean by giving our loved ones back to us?” DeSousa hadn’t intended to let her most irrational fears enter the conversation, but she regardless. She had no idea what was rational at this point. Anything, no matter how terrifying, was possible.  
“Many expungers look humanoid by design. I look like a human. There are expungers who look more human that I. We are not turning your dead into our shock troops. We have no need. We can not turn you into one of us. You can not be us. We can not be you. It is that simple.”  
DeSousa was slightly relieved by The Emissary’s reassurance. There was still a single question she had to ask.  
“What would it take for you and the rest of the Expungers to abandon your plan of human elevation and leave this planet alone?”  
The Emissary’s response disheartened her, even if it did not surprise her.  
“No force on heaven or earth can make us forsake our duty.” He continued. “We are not that cruel.”  
DeSousa couldn’t help but think that The Expungers had a novel definition of “cruelty”. At this time she had run out of questions to ask.  
“Very well Emissary. I would ask you share what we have discussed freely with the rest of the general assembly. Until then I thank you for your time.”  
“Indeed Representative DeSousa, I hope you will speak with your leaders back in your homeland about the possibility of capitulation. You have a beautiful country.”  
DeSousa didn’t reply as she walked away.

April 19th

It had to be a joke.  
All of it. Everything Thomas Petrie has experienced in the past month has had to be a joke. Postponing his wife’s wake because of giant mechanical insects, holding the wake only to have his wife’s corpse stolen by giant mechanical insects, seeing Ned Cline getting murdered by giant mechanical insects. That video he saw in Pastor Richards’ office. Apocalyptic machinery mowing down Mexico in the name of helping the government upend the criminal drug cartels. Ethan Lucas. Ethan Lucas had to be a joke. The man was insane. The man was beyond insane. Petrie kept checking the Collective Assembly of a Better Tomorrow’s website expecting it to be taken down. Expecting it to be some kind of massive, ridiculous April Fool’s joke. Ethan Lucas was either a dangerous madman or a king among the internet trolls. He was taking the side of the mechanical life forms that have made no bones about their intents towards humanity. What hope could he see in a Godless tomorrow where we are thrall to the machines? Every waking moment Thomas Petrie was living man’s worst nightmare. And the most disturbing thing of all was Pastor Richards. Richards was approaching this terrifying new tomorrow with a calm that Thomas found completely offputting. Thomas was as shamed as he was alarmed; Richards put too much faith in him. He wasn’t a leader of men. Maybe he was a leader of men before. Maybe in his youth when he could look to the heavens and feel God’s grace smiling down upon him. When he could look around him and see a future he wanted to be a part of. When he had a family, a real family. A wife. The possibility of children. When these things were on the table, then maybe Thomas Petrie could be a leader of men. But not now. This Thomas Petrie was a broken man, barely capable of functioning in this new world. He didn’t even know why he was going to church today. Did he want for counsel? Did he want for stability? Did he want a brief respite from the despair that surrounded him by basking in the familiar for just a little while? Did he just want to be reminded that he still had something vaguely resembling family? Was he just going out of habit? Did he not want Ethan or Mike to show up at his doorstep again? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything anymore.  
“In international news; fighting is said to be escalating in Africa. Numerous rebel factions have activated throughout the continent and are resisting the expunger threat. Many of these rebels are said to be targeted humanitarian efforts within their borders, in hopes that they can create sufficient public outcry to force a retreat. UN officials have decried these tactics, claiming that The Expungers have no regard for things like public opinion…”  
Thomas Petrie turned off the radio. He didn’t know why he turned it on. He didn’t know why he was compelled to seek out news concerning what The Expungers were doing in other parts of the world. Why did he actively seek despair? The news drew him, called to him. Almost like if he listened hard enough he could hear hope between the lines. But all he heard was ‘Expunger influence is causing rebel guerrillas in Africa to actively target humanitarian efforts.” It was monstrous. It was what the Expungers had driven them to.  
Petrie was early. He didn’t feel like talking to anybody, but he didn’t feel like being at home any more either. He took his seat and hoped that people would have the decorum to leave him alone. Of course they didn’t.  
“Hey Thomas.” Mike was the first to talk to him. He knew it would be one of them. He wished it was neither of them.  
“Hey Mike.”  
“I’m Ethan.”  
Thomas just spewed out a guttural sigh. Even if Mike and Ethan had visible distinguishing characteristics, Thomas wasn’t paying enough attention to notice. Ethan continued.  
“Have you heard the news.”  
“You’re going to have to be more specific Ethan.”  
“We heard from Uncle Joe.” Joe was, as Ethan specified, another one of their uncles, much like Ned, except on their father’s side. Joe was presently doing missionary work in Africa. In the events of the last week, Thomas had forgotten about Joe altogether.  
“Is he alive.”  
“Uh yeah for now. We heard from him yesterday. He said Expungers showed up in the village he’s teaching at.”  
“And he’s still alive.”  
“Yeah, he said they looked weird. Like, they looked kinda human, except they were like 10 feet tall and they weren’t trying to fool anybody. He said the first thing they did when they got there was assure everybody in the village they were there to help, then a few of them started patching up the irrigation canals. A few more started fixing up the water purification system. Others did a soil analysis and conferred with the village elder about the specifics of crop rotation of all things.”  
“The villagers must have been terrified.”  
“Most of them refused to come out of their huts. The one that talked about crop rotation just kinda mentioned it as the Elder cowered.”

“And how is Joe handling it.”  
“Joe said so long as they keep fixing stuff, he’s got no problem with them.”  
Thomas was livid.  
“No problem. No problem with the mechanical monstrosities that have polluted our skies, stolen our dead and waged war throughout the globe.”  
“I tried mentioning that stuff to Joe, but he’s just focused on the village. He’s not really up to date on what’s happening around the globe.”  
“Figures. Damn fool can’t see the forest for the trees.”  
“Hey, Joe is doing good work there. And if we have to put up with terrifying giant robots, I’d rather they fix irrigation systems in the 3rd world then dropping kill-bots on us.”  
Thomas gave a grunt of begrudging agreement.  
“How are you holding up Thomas?”  
Thomas could only sigh.  
“Look, we all know it’s been harder on you than most. But we all have to focus on the things we have control and have faith that things will work out in the end. We can’t fight those things. We have to hope the powers that be can figure something out. Shutting out the world and living in fear and anger will not avail you.”  
“Nothing will avail us.” Thomas thought to himself. But outwardly he remained quiet.  
As he sat in the pew he couldn’t help but overhear Ethan repeating the conversation he just had with Thomas to the other parishioners. The responses were, to Thomas’ likening, overly mixed. Some simply refused to believe the fantastical tales Ethan weaved. Others didn’t particularly care what was going on in Africa; they were simply more concerned with affairs in their own borders. But others listened. They sounded encouraged, pleased even. Then Mike showed up and suddenly the sordid tale was in stereo. To Thomas, it was agonizing that anybody would allow themselves to be taken in by the lies and false promises of salvation that The Expungers offered.  
“You look positively miserable dear.” Sophie said in her saccharine grandmotherly voice as she sat down beside Thomas.  
“Are you listening to the nonsense the twins are spreading? What stupidity is Joe filling their head with?”  
“Well dear, Joe never was the brightest bulb in the box. I told him, we all told him. We said ‘Joe, charity starts at home. There are plenty of others willing to spread the word of the lord there and there are plenty who require your help right here at home. But Joe didn’t listen. Joe never listens. He’s a dreamer that one. He’s just like the twins really. He always liked them best. They’d go on their adventures when the twins were little out into the forest. Or up on the mountain. They don’t think I know this, but when the boys turned 16, the two of them and Joe paid a little visit to that abandoned hospital out in Portsville. That place is haunted. And it was trespassing besides. A little too adventurous for their own good, all three of them. They’re all good men, don’t get me wrong. Just not a lick of sense between ‘em.”  
Thomas didn’t know how to respond. Sophie didn’t look like she was looking for a response.  
“I worry about him though. You’d think when the Expungers came that would be his sign to get out of town. But I guess it’s not that easy when you’re literally in the middle of nowhere like he is. That fool man is going to get himself killed and if he doesn’t keep it to himself he’s going to get the twins killed too.”  
Thomas felt the need to make some sort of response.  
“Yeah. I still don’t believe they’re buying into it.”  
“The road of the righteous is beset on all ends by charlatans and false prophets dear.” Thomas found Sophie’s words soothing, even though in the past he might have chided her narrow viewpoint of what constituted ‘righteousness.’ Thomas didn’t reply. He wouldn’t speak at all until Pastor Richards took the dais. 

“Brothers and Sisters of The Church of St. John, I have been ministering to you for over 15 years at this point. You know me. You know my message. You know that despite my training and my ordainment as a Pastor in the Pentecostal faith my sermons are frequently unconventional by the standards many of you have come to understand. I have always stood by my interpretations of the Holy Scripture and its place in my life. Today is a day when I feel as though the Bible’s place is closed; always at our side but today is a strange day. We live in a strange time. We live in a time when our faith is tested and our resolve is strained to its breaking point. These are the days when good men and women, strong women and men are driven to despair and worse by the events are transpiring around the world. We have all had to look inside ourselves, we have all tried to see where the God Almighty fits into this order. Well rest assured, even in these strange days, the grace of the divine has not abandoned you, it has not abandoned us. We are living in a world of fear, this is true. But even more true is that we live in a world of hope. We live in a world where the fantastic is swiftly becoming commonplace and miracles are being performed right before our eyes. Where does God fit into this terrifying vision? Well, the faces I see in the crowd today are the faces I see in the crowd every Sunday. You all know my and I all know you. And you all know that there is a little joke I like to tell from time to time…”  
“Oh goddamn it not the stupid fucking boat joke again!” Thomas grumbled silently.  
“A pious man once sat atop the roof of his house. His city had been beset by a mighty flood and the roof was the only place that was not yet submerged. The man did not fear, for he knew God would save him. When a boat came looking for survivors they found him there, kneeling in prayer. They told the man ‘we are here to rescue you but the man look up from his prayers and said ‘I have no need of you, God shall save me.’ He sent the boat away and continued to pray and wait for his deliverance. A few days later the situation had worsened, the rains had come and now there was barely enough roof for the man to rest upon. At this time a helicopter came to the man, lowered a rope and a rescue worker came down the ladder and told the man ‘Please come with us. Your entire house will be underwater by the end of the night.’ But the man simply said ‘I thank you but I don’t need your help. God shall save me.’ Frustrated, the helicopter flew away leaving the man to his fate. Night came, the rains caused the water level to consume his house entirety. The man drowned, and being a goodly, pious sort he was immediately sent to Heaven. When he met God he asked him ‘God, was I not pious and devout my whole life?’ ‘Did I not devote my life to serving you every way I could?’ ‘Why did you do nothing to save me?’ God simply looked at the men and said ‘My son, I sent you a boat and then I sent you a helicopter.’  
The assembly did that kind of polite laugh people make when they don’t want to make the person telling the joke to feel uncomfortable; even though at this point they had heard it a hundred times and Richards delivered in such a way that the humor was lost regardless.  
“And now here’s the part where he talks about how God’s blessings come in many forms.” Thomas also knew what followed this particular joke. He took a moment to think about what manner of blessings he could possibly be talking about.  
“The lesson here is that God’s blessings come in many forms. Every mundane blessing we experience in our lives can be seen as an act of divine providence. Every kind stranger, Every fortuitous distraction, every beneficial little twist of fate, the hand of God can be found in all of these things. Seldom does God intervene directly. Today, Brothers and Sisters, I told you about hope. I told you that even in these seemingly dark times, hope springs eternal. I would like to take the opportunity to offer examples, to show you, to prove to you that hope lives. Hope prospers ladies and gentlemen. I have taken the opportunity to contact my brethren from around the world and I have in front of me numerous testimonials of the hope I am speaking of.” Pastor Richard took a moment to fish out his phone, he then brought up the display. “I know a lot of you don’t like me using modern technology up here on the dais, but paper is wasteful, so my apologies I hope you can forgive me.” After a round of polite laugher and a few more seconds of Richards fiddling he began to speak again.  
“This first message comes from a friend of mine in the World Health Organization who has been fighting the spread of Ebola in West Africa for the last year. She writes. “At the beginning of the week the W.H.O. headquarters sent us the news that we could be expecting a full-fledged Expunger Invasion sometime in the next 72 hours. We were stuck in an unfortunate situation; the threat the Expungers posted was terrifying, but abandoning our posts meant that this disease, which we had spent so much time trying to combat, could and likely would engulf the continent. The 72 hours came. I am not certain if I had slept at all I was so frightened. The W.H.O. mentioned something about The Expungers offering to aid humanitarian efforts throughout the area but we didn’t know what that meant. Who knew? Would they decided that the sick needed to be expunged for the sake of the entire populace? Were they approaching this from such a harsh ‘greater good’ scenario? Then, on the third day they came out of the sky. Their…ship I guess you’d call it darkened the skies above us and we saw shadows descend around our location. There were a dozen of them. 6 of them that looked almost like humans except their legs were unnaturally long and their eyes were yellow. Two of them were massive, almost 10 feet tall. They looked like normal, very muscular humans except for their size. And there were four others. We thought they were locals until they introduced themselves as Expungers. They called themselves The Nurses. They called the big ones The Engineers and the long legged ones The Hunters. They said that their job as nurses would be to administer health care to the infected populace. They said they were immune to all human infections and they were designed to minimize fear and engender trust among the people of the area. They went on to explain that the engineer were there to take care of anything that needed to be built or maintained.  
“But I was worried about the hunters, I couldn’t imagine what role something called a ‘hunter’ could have in a humanitarian operation. They explained their job was to hunt infected animals and expunge them from the animal population. I asked them how that was possible; many animals with Ebola are Asymptomatic, the Nurses simply told me not to worry and the hunters ran off faster than I’ve ever seen a four legged animal run. That morning The Nurses informed me that the hunters had returned with the bodies of over 50 infected fauna in the region. I wasn’t sure if all the dead animals were infected or if they were killing the game indiscriminately, but tests confirmed each specimen was infected. We haven’t had time to tabulate a timetable but the Expunger presence in our camp has sped up our efforts to snuff out this virus considerably.”  
Thomas began to grow very angry. Pastor Richards could not possibly be preaching the Expunger Orthodoxy in his church. This was madness. This was lunacy.  
Apparently Pastor Richards couldn’t read Thomas’s thoughts, because he continued without a pause. “That is just one story. Here is another. It is from Sierra Leone, a region in Africa that has undergone much upheaval. The diamond trade is heavy there and the laborers are slaves, frequently children. This message comes from a friend of mine who is currently administrating a refugee camp on the border of the country. He writes. “Misery is just an every day occurrence here. There is not enough of anything, our supply lines are constantly getting hit by brigands and while fleeing Sierra Leone a lot of people have been taken as slaves to work in illegal diamond mines. I didn’t heard abou the Expungers until they showed up. They just fly over in what must have been the biggest ship I’ve ever seen. A bunch of 10 foot tall people show up at my tent and ask me if I have anything that needs fixing? Everything needs fixing around here so I don’t how big the guy is, you volunteer to help fix stuff, I’m taking the help. The refugees were scared. But the refugees are always scared. Then a bunch of…I don’t know a bunch of friggin…his words not mine people…friggin robots, like sci-fi robots. Twelve feet tall. Look like they belong in a science fiction movie. They don’t even say anything. I don’t even know if they can say anything. They just take off. I ask one of the big guys what the deal is with them and he’s like ‘those are Peacekeepers, our intelligence mentioned slave trade around here. We have a visual of several brigand locations and slaver owned mines. They should have your road secured by sundown and your people home by tomorrow.’ This sounds too good to be true. I’m starting to think I drank something even more wrong than usual because He didn’t just say these giant robots were going to go kick bad guy ass…again, his words not mine.”  
Thomas had already had enough.  
“And let me fucking guess Pastor, all the children ran home like in “Temple of Doom” and then they all sang “Kumbaya” around the damn campfire? You were THERE Pastor! You SAW what they did! How can you fucking betray us like this?”  
Pastor Richards didn’t even look flustered.  
“Well, the note mentions they were singing some song more traditional around the campfire but alas, I feared this would have an affect on you. Your anger has blinded you to hope.”  
“HOPE?! Hope of what? Beyond marched naked into Expunger death camps by stupid assholes who are buying into all this ‘help’ crap. There is no divinity in those insects. There is no God to be found in these machines. They are monsters, and you are a monster for spreading their propaganda Pastor.  
“Thomas my son, have I ever led you astray?”  
“No you haven’t, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you start now.” Thomas stormed out. Pastor Richards look on with a slightly disappointed look on his face.  
“There is no solitude. There is no sanctity. There is no escape or respite. Even the people I loved have gone fucking insane.” Thomas ranted to himself on the drive home, the numbness of despair replaced with the fiery passions of wrath of betrayal. “They are ALL INSANE! ALL OF THEM! FUCK THEM ALL!” Thomas drove past his house. This was not a time to stay cooped up in the memory of all his broken dreams. This was time to drive. Time to yell, time to feel the vitriol rise within him. Time to rage against the proverbial machine. Thomas didn’t know what he could do to stop them, he just knew he wasn’t going down quietly. He drove down the streets he knew. He saw a sort of silence. Day to day life was going on as it always had. Many of the residents of Twin Lakes were at the services of their various churches at the moments; many of them were at his Church listening to a man he would have once trust with his life contaminate their mind with lies about the benevolence of the Expungers. Those who weren’t at services went on with their daily lives, there was no panic, no urgency, for all the world to see it was as though Twin Lakes was living as Twin Lakes had always lived and first the first time that angered Petrie. They were sheep. They were lambs being led to the slaughter by The Expungers. Could only he see it? Were they all too afraid to look up and face the truth? Did they simply accept their powerlessness and content themselves to live until the Expungers decided it was time for them to die…or worse. Petrie couldn’t look at them. He couldn’t stomach them. He didn’t know why, but he drove to White Lake.

Thomas wasn’t ever a very outdoorsy type of person. He wasn’t much of a camper, though if he had children he would have taken them camping. It was a character builder. It was a very to appreciate the numerous gifts that civilization and technology had bestowed upon them. But now Thomas didn’t want to look at technology. He didn’t want to look at people. He just wanted serenity. He wanted silence. He wanted calm. He pulled his car to the side of the road, walked along the water’s edge, found a spot where he thought he might not be disturbed and he sat down. He was angry, there was no doubt about it. Adrenaline was surging through him, he trembled as he sat. He tried to find a measure of calm as he gazed into the massive water body. It did not work. The water was clean and calm, which was generally a good thing, but not for Thomas. Not at that moment. Not at that moment because he could see the reflection in the water. He saw the sky in the reflection. He saw the scavengers in the sky.  
“No escape. No salvation. No refuge. No love. No peace. No rest.” Thomas began ranting to himself as he paced about the forested shoreline. “There is no shelter here. The front line is everywhere.” Thomas did not know whose words those were, but he did not believe them to be his own. But they rang true. The Expungers were everywhere. They seemed to know everything. Their power seemed to be all-powerful. He was beset on all sides by cowardly chattel that gleefully sat by and sang their praises as The Expungers branded them as their own. He didn’t know how he could stop them. Eventually the humors of Thomas’ rage subsided. The anger persisted. The frustration, the helplessness persisted. This was no longer the time to rant, to rave, to yell or to feel the vitriol. Now was a time to rest. To rest and to think. To think and to plan.  
As he drove him Thomas experienced a sense of restrained calmness. It was the eye of the storm. He could feel the wrath in the back of his eyes and the corners of his heart. But at the moment, he was centered. From time to time, at stop signs and the like, he would look up at the swarm and he would recite another quote he knew from a source he did not know.  
“To the last, I grapple with thee; from hell's heart, I stab at thee; for hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee.”  
When Thomas got home, he was drained. The wrath had burned his wick to ash. He just wanted to sleep and hope the Expungers didn’t invade his dreams. He knew he hoped in vain.  
Sleep did not come. Thomas was drained, but the fires of anger still burned. The scar of betrayal still itched beneath his skin. And people would not stop knocking on his door.  
“For fuck’s sake if that’s Ethan telling me that Richards wants to talk again I swear I will punch him right in his stupid fucking face.” Thomas thought as he stormed to the door. But on the other side wasn’t Ethan, it was Sophie and no fewer than a dozen other parishioners. Some he knew well, others were more acquaintances. All of them were older than Thomas. Thomas did not feel like being polite.  
“What?” Thomas feared that Richards was pulling out the big guns to get him back into his diseased flock.  
“Now now dear don’t worry, we’re not here for a fight.” Sophie’s calming presence was as present as ever. “We just saw how you stormed out of the service today and we wanted to let you know that many of us agree with you.”  
A general wordless sound of approval came forth from the others in his front lawn.  
“Really?” Thomas was in denial.  
“Oh yes. I tell you we waited until the end of the sermon. Well, most of us anyway. A few of us left early. But after the sermon was over I walked right up to Pastor Richards and I asked him ‘how could you Pastor? After what those machines did to Ned and Beth and Thomas, how could you come down on their side? Oh he tried to deflect me with all that ‘everything happens for a reason’ malarkey but I wasn’t about to listen to that. I told him, I said that until he desisted with all that nonsense I would not be returning to his services. And a lot of other people agree with me. If Richards doesn’t want to lose half his congregation, he’ll back down.”  
Thomas didn’t want Richards to back down. At this point the damage was done and shaming him into a half-assed recant wasn’t going to fix anything.  
“Sophie, I don’t really care if he backs down or not. I’m done with him.”  
“We were thinking of petitioning the corporate headquarters to send down a Pastor who actually follows the word of God rather than this softshoe nonsense we’ve been putting up with for the last 15 years.”  
Thomas didn’t want to listen to another Pastor try to put a band-aid on this. The world was going hell and no interpretation of God could save us.  
“I don’t know if that will make a difference Sophie. I really don’t. Now I thank you all for your support and I will speak to you all later but right now…I’m just tired and want to go back to bed. I haven’t been sleeping well with everything going on.”  
“I don’t think many people have dear. Well we just wanted to tell you you’re not alone. Have a good day dear. God bless.”  
Thomas didn’t even want to imagine what God’s blessings would look like in this day and age.

April 25th

“Today is to be the greatest day in the history of man.”  
These were the thoughts of the North Korean Supreme Leader, most blessed under the Heavens, Kim Jin-Sing. For the years of his leadership and the leadership of his forefathers North Korea was spit upon in the world stage. Mocked, dehumanized, smeared and marginalized for the sake of the decadent agendas of the West. That would all end today. His plan, his vision, his bravery in the face of overwhelming fear would be remembered throughout all the collective people of the world. When he say The Scavengers take the skies, when the Event was revealed to him, he knew what he must do. He had his delegate at the general assembly Sun San-Yeong advocate for nuclear proliferation, which was the swift and decisive action this crisis required. But they refused. They refused because they were cowards who refused to accept how things had to be. They would keep their weapon asleep in their bunkers while the world burned around them. Even as Mexico and the whole of Africa fell around them they lacked the courage to do what had to be done. Today that ended. Today the Expungers will end and The Democratic Republic of North Korea shall rise.  
“Bin, how are our ground forces faring against the swarms.” Kim heard the event and the promise that the scavengers were not aggressive unless provoked. He dismissed it as Expunger propaganda. Korea would not yield their dead to this menace.  
“Casualties are at acceptable levels, but the swarms seem limitless.”  
“Further conscription efforts. They will run out of flies before we run out of bullets and men to shoot them.”  
“Yes, glorious leader.” Commander Bin Il-Jin was a credit to The Fatherland. Followed orders without hesitation, got results without variation. When North Korea took its rightful people at the throne of the world they will look to Bin-Il-Jin as what a true leader was supposed to look like.  
“Chi, are our warheads in place?” Kim asked of Chi Jong-A. Chi was the Grand Marshall of The glorious army of North Korea, but Kim was beginning to regret that designation. Kim began to question whether he was up to the task.  
“Yes, they are all in place. We have satellite imagery of all known global bases of the Expunger threat. We have gotten confirmation from our techs that the navigation devices on our warheads are keyed into their coordinates. The submarines for the remote launches are in place and all undetected to the best of our knowledge. Upon your command the warheads will be launched simultaneously.”  
“Excellent job Commander.” Kim said. Chi was undoubtedly capable of coordinating complicated logistical tactics. Tying this all together was a testament to his capabilities and brilliance, this Kim was forced to admit. Unfortunately his “brilliance” came with an unfortunate side effect.  
“Supreme Leader, once again before you embark upon this course of action, I must beseech you; do not do this. The combined power of the nuclear warheads you are deploying will be sufficient to devastate fully half of the global population and the fallout will render the majority of the world uninhabitable.”  
“Again with the Fallout Chi. You brilliance is undeniable but your lack of faith in me is starting to become a problem. Removing the Expunger threat from the face of the earth by any means necessary is our goal here Chi. Do not worry about fallout. We will persevere. Now, will you give the order or do you not value the well being of yourself or your family Chi.” Kim knew how to lead. The cowards in the UN and in the decadent west thought to judge his ‘cruelty’ as their own societies spiraled out of control. But Kim knew. He people needed a strong figure. He knew that the only way for humanity to move forward was as a unified front. And humanity would move forward, and Kim Jin-Sung would be the one to lead them.  
“All hands on deck, prepare to fire upon Supreme Leader’s signal.” Chi looked defeated as he relayed the command into the device. Kim was pleased as Chi relinquished the device to him. He made his way to the observation deck of the Kyun-Yee missile silo, which was until now, North Koreas best kept secret. Years of scrutiny by UN council forces has made the North Korean people adept at hiding things from satellite observation.  
As Kim Jin-Sung sauntered onto the observation deck he felt with utter certainty that this would be a glorious defining moment in human history. He stood upon the deck with the regal air of an emperor of old gazing upon his conquests. The Khans of old could only imagine wielding the power and authority Kim Jin-Sung did now.  
“Fire at 10.” Kim-Jin Sung uttered into the portable radio.

“9…”  
“8…”  
“7…”  
“6…”  
Kim noticed that new figures had joined the swarm as they flew in the sky. Larger things. Things that looked superficially like squid but were clearly of Expunger design.  
“Come to witness the end to your ‘people’s’ conquests” Kim thought to himself as he continued the countdown.  
“5…”  
“4…”  
“3…”  
“2…”  
“1…Fire.” The moment was upon us. The moment humanity would remember him for. The moment they would revere him for, worship him for. A moment that makes Supreme Leaders and withers lesser men. As he saw the missiles emerge from the silo he felt prouder than he had ever had before in his life. Into the sky they went, their goals were every Expunger obelisk in the world. Soon they would be no more, the Expungers would be no more. There would only be Supreme Leader and a grateful world populace.  
Then the squids lunged towards the rockets. With a supernatural speed they caught the missiles mid-flight and engulfed them with their tentacles. Kim gazed at the scene in terror and confusion. Kim yelled to the military guard flanking him.  
“Shoot them! Shoot them down! Get them off of the missiles.”  
As the honor guard readied their rifles Chi spoke up.  
“No, its too dangerous, the warhead could detonate!”  
“Chi, what did I tell you about insubordination. Now shoot that damn thing out of the sky or get used to the thought of having you and your entire family sent to camp.”  
Either Chi knew his place or decided that death was better than dishonor as he readied his rifle and shot at the squid.  
The squid was unconcerned. Ignoring the rounds of assault rifle fire multiple tentacles reached into the missle chassis and yanked a mass of wire. Another tentacle wrapped itself around the warhead at the tip of the missile and disengaged it from the rest of the missile. With a casual sort of disdain, the squid threw the ruined missle chassis off into the surrounding fields, where it landed like worthless debris. Then, clutching the warhead tight, the squid retreated straight up in the stratosphere.  
The scene repeated itself with every missile launched from the Kyun-Yee silo. A squid would descend, remove the warhead from the chassis, navigation and propulsion systems and fled with the warhead in hand.  
“FUCK! Bin, assemble our air fighters. Take those squids out of the sky. Chi, get a report from the submarines!”  
Chi and Bin did as they were asked as the base buzzed with panicked activity. Chi was the first to return with news.  
“Bad news Supreme Leader, each submarine reports their payloads just fell out of the sky.”  
“HOW! How did they know?! CHI, YOU LYING TRAITOR! You tipped them off!”  
“How could I possibly tip them off? Please Supreme Leader I beg you to be reasonable. I would never betray…”  
“I AM SICK OF YOUR LIES CHI! GUARDS! Take him away! I want his every remaining waking moment to be agonizing. You will beg for death Chi, and I will not answer!” Kim was apoplectic. All reason left his body, replaced by a psychosis fueled by a cocktail of equal parts rage and failure.  
Kim yanked the radio from Chi as he was being dragged away and began to scream.  
“GET MORE MISSILES ONLINE! I WANT THE SKY TO BLEED FIRE TONIGHT!”  
The voice from the other end was less than cooperative.  
“Supreme Leader please, it will take time to calibrate the navigational tools and prepare the missles for…”  
“ANOTHER TRAITOROUS ASSHOLE! TO ANYBODY DOWN THERE WHO CAN HEAR ME! DETAIN THAT MAN AND MAKE HIM EAT HIS OWN BALLSACK!” Kim had completely lost all semblance of reason in the face of his failure. The screaming continued, and Kim was so loud that his voice drowned out the sounds of a hundred metallic wings descending upon his location. The Scavengers descended upon the missile silo in a heartbeat. The bloodbath was swift, the combatants were ill prepared for a sneak attack within the narrow confines of the base interior. Every soldier in the base was repeatedly stabbed by the scavenger’s spear-like appendages. Every soldier’s remains were carried away by the scavengers, still continuing their grisly work. The techs that fled the scene were left alone. A few techs tried to fight off the swarm. They were murdered swiftly.  
For his part, on what was supposed to be the greatest day in the history of mankind, the glorious day in the sun for The Democratic Republic of Korea, Kim Jin-Sung was unceremoniously felled by a scavenger before he could even realize they were there. He was removed from the base with the rest; no longer a Supreme Leader, now just a statistic. 

April 25th

The news stopped the UN General Assembly in its tracks. Carla Marquez was again pleading her case before the assembly when each delegate was informed of the news by their cadre of informants, liaisons and contacts. Satellite images showed numerous images of unidentified flying objects, apparently launched out of a farmstead in the remote Kyun-Yee region of North Korea. Military radar along the western coast of the United States of America also showed several more flying objects being launched from various points through their western coastline being launched simultaneously with the Kyun-Yee objects. It was obvious North Korea attempted a massive alpha strike, but where, and why?  
The Emissary was pleased to answer that question. He calmly made his way to the dais. Marquez was displeased at the situation but she recognized that the potential severity of the situation was going to outweigh her pleas, which to her mind had fallen upon deaf ears to this point anyway.  
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the United Nations General Assembly; judging from the sudden outburst of disquiet from you, you have just been informed of the recent actions of the government of North Korea. At approximately 13:00 Eastern Standard Time the North Korean military attempted a decisive alpha strike against Expunger strongholds worldwide. Several nuclear warheads were launched from a secret military base in the region of Kyun-Yee in coordination with numerous submarines bearing nuclear payloads stationed along the western coastline of North, Central and South America. Their goal was the destruction of each and every single known Expunger stronghold worldwide with the hopes of bringing a sudden and final end to our aims on this planet. Had they succeeded we approximate a death toll of approximately 1.5 billion people worldwide. Approximately 46% of the planet’s surface would be rendered unlivable for several thousand years. Fortunately we have anticipated this sort of action and our interceptors were in place to disable the nuclear devices mid-flight. Global catastrophe has been averted. As always, we are here to help you.  
“This is a lie. This is slander.” Sun San-Yeong wasted no words or time in denying the Emissary’s claim. “We have been probed by UN inspectors numerous times over the years. You have found no evidence of any North Korean involvement in a nuclear proliferation program. The emissary is simply using this tiny shred of alleged ‘evidence’ to sow mistrust among the general assembly while he and his cohorts gets to play the ‘hero’. How can satellite imagery show that there were missiles launched? The sky is lousy with Expunger carrion insects. How can you see anything?” Although it was generally accepted as truth that North Korean military was carrying out a nuclear arms program in secret, many members of the UN council could not help but agree with some of Sun’s admonitions. It seemed like aside from evidence that ‘something’ was in the air, there was no evidence that the alleged missiles were nuclear in nature. Something about the situation made many delegates feel as though the Emissary was simply using general UN mistrust towards North Korea as a way to further his own goals.  
“Well, I believe that despite our Scavengers and Interceptors obfuscating the view below, those satellites are imbued with thermo graphic vision. Neither scavengers or interceptors have a heat signature, so it should be easy to tell that the unidentified flying objects were in fact missiles.”  
“No heat signatures? That is impossible. Mechanical creations of that size and complexity must radiate significant amounts of heat.”  
“By your comprehension of technology, yes. However we are not subject to the laws of science and technology as you understand them. And this we can prove. After all, you only need to bring up the thermal images of any satellite or radar in the world and you will find our signatures absent from the feed. Now, we can not directly prove that the missiles fired from the Kyun-Yee military base are nuclear in nature. However the fact that the base was well hidden in a remote region of the country should generate adequate suspicion on its own. If you send an inspection team out there you will find both facilities designed specifically to accommodate the construction and storage of nuclear arms and several missiles that were not used in the initial attack. We will provide your team safe passage into the region. We will personally transport your team should it be required, and furthermore we promise your safety in the Kyun-Yee region while we conduct our operation.”  
“What operation?” Sun was clearly distressed.  
“The Democratic Republic of North Korea just attempted to commit mass genocide upon the human populace, your government and your military is a threat to the unified humanity of this planet. Capitulation from your government agencies is clearly not forthcoming, ergo over the next 24 hours we will begin a massive military operation in North Korea. At this time, all non-capitulating members of the North Korean government and military, as well as any seditious elements in the civilian populace will be expunged. Supreme Leader Kim-Jing Sung and several high ranking members of the North Korean military have already been expunged in the aftermath of the attempted assault. My apologies to Mr. Sun and whole UN general assembly, but silencers will be coming for Mr. Sun at this time. His membership in this assembly is no longer acknowledged by our collective. The assembly looked upon the Emissary with a combination of confusion, fear, and rancor. Sun was terrified.  
“Please Mr. Emissary. Have mercy. I capitulate. I capitulate. Spare me, spare me.”  
“Your capitulation is superficial. Your personal and political track record speaks of a man whose disregard for the well-being of his fellow man in favor of his own self-interest can only be detrimental. Your continued presence on the world stage would only serve to undermine our efforts. Our apologies Mr. Sun, please understand this is not punishment. This is simply what must be done.”  
Sun fled the UN assembly floor as an infuriated President Prudhomme took the dais mic.  
“Did you just threaten to assassinate a member of the UN general assembly in full view of the rest of the assembly? This action is not acceptable. Surely you can see this! This action will damage relations with your people in the future.”  
The Emissary gently pulled the mic away from Prudhomme.  
“It was best to be upfront in this situation. Better than finding Sun’s suite empty in the morning with nothing but a bloodstain and a broken window and speculating on what had happened. Now before I yield the dais I have two other important points to make. First, we realize that some countries neighboring North Korea may either have designs on occupying the region for themselves or they may attempt to offer military aid to the soon-to be expunged country. I must be very clear on this; these actions are not permitted. Any attempt to intervene in these proceedings will result in an assumption of failed willful capitulation and the revocation of your country’s autonomy. In short, you will share North Korea’s fate. Secondly, it is very obvious that the majority of the general assembly regards us as monsters and conquerors. I am certain witnessing the first full assumption of failed willful capitulation and autonomy revocation will only reinforce these preconceived notions. However I must personally view this as an opportunity to enlighten us as to the true reason for our presence upon your planet. Since the dawning of what you refer to as the nuclear age, the threat of global annihilation became something very real. Since then the various governments of your world have interacted with each other under a generalized understanding of the potential of mutually-assured destruction. Each superpower with their finger on the proverbial button, making sure that no other superpower flinches. This is an unacceptable and unsustainable dynamic. Eventually somebody will twitch and then it will all be over. Annihilation of all life on this planet. This is not acceptable to us. This is something we must prevent at all costs. When the UN inspection team arrives at Kyun-Yee they will find evidence of nuclear proliferation. They will understand that what has occurred on this day is nothing less than a prevention of global annihilation. And then you will understand that we are not conquerors by nature. We are saviors. We are guardians. We saved you from yourselves today and we will continue to serve this function in the future. We are here to help to you. Please allow to do so. Spare yourselves the fate of North Korea and understand that as terrifying as the times you live in now are, at the end only something glorious and wonderful beyond your present ability to comprehend awaits you. Thank you very much.  
The UN General Assembly was uncertain how to process this new knowledge. A ‘member’ of its council just promised to systematically dismantle a country who had on this very day attempted to destroy them all in some manner of horrifically misguided pyrrhic victory. Saviors and conquerors in the same breath. They were left to wonder; did the Expungers prevent Armageddon, or were they starting it?

April 30th

“May you live in interesting times.”  
An ancient Chinese curse; something to be uttered to enemies in unrestrained moments. China’s history is one of endless tumult; rebellions from within, invasions from without. An endless cycle of empires rising and crashing under the pressure of trying to hold the largest country in the world together in a time when its land mass could not be traversed in under a month. A constant shifting of political allegiances, barbarous subcultures becoming the ruling culture and the ruling cultures becomes devastated and marginalized to the point where it became difficult to figure out the exact definite of just what a ‘Chinese’ person actually was. Interesting times were times of war and strife, this was a universal truth known throughout their grand country.  
“The Chinese are pussies.”  
The thought came from Halliburton executive vice president Richard McKinney as his limo began the approach to Ft. Travis in Houston, Texas. In McKinney’s mind interesting times were the only times worth living in. Interesting times lent themselves to innovation, to ingenuity. Was not the Great Wall, the only man-made structure visible from space, made to rebel the Mongolian Hordes? Were not some of the seminal works of Chinese culture, such as Dream of the Red Chamber and Romance of the Three Kingdoms inspired by interesting times? Interesting times defined what China was, they defined what China is. That they would think to cast malisons upon the events that shaped them was unthinkable to McKinney. No, interesting times were not to be feared. They were to be embraced as challenges, as opportunity. McKinney lived in one of the most interesting times in human history. He did not fear, he did not despair. He was a man who had never met a wall he couldn’t scale or a challenge he couldn’t overcome. His work today was to be a reflection of the ingenuity and brilliance mankind was capable of in the face of ‘interesting times.’  
That this military contract was further expanding his company’s coffers certainly didn’t hurt his outlook either.  
The checkpoints within the base were passed without issue and McKinney found his way to hanger 42, where the prototype of the latest military contract issued from the United States government rested, waiting for his approval. As he got out of the car he knew he would not be disappointed with the progress his engineers had made. They knew better than to disappoint him, and even though McKinney was not a man of science, he knew this particular proposal was scarcely a challenge to his company’s engineering corps.  
“Perhaps we need to live in more interesting times.” McKinney joked to himself as he emerged from the limo. A man he was familiar with rushed to greet him. Bob Smith, a man with a completely forgettable name and face. McKinney knew him well though; of this engineering team, the team McKinney most often oversaw, Bob was something of a liaison between the team and corporate.  
“Hello VP McKinney. I trust the ride here was uneventful.”  
“Dreadfully so. Ok Bob, you know why I’m here. How is the ‘flyswatter’ coming?”  
Bob’s face contorting into confusion. McKinney did not like Bob being confused. Telling him everything was proceeding exactly as plan should not be confusing.  
“Mostly excellent sir. We’ve had some problems with overheating in the main chamber but Nogueira and Hicks have been working on that with very promising results. But that’s a minor issue compared to the two bigger ones. The first problem is the issue we put forth concerning the usage of the flyswatters. We’ve been trying to create a type of ammunition that is durable enough to make the trip up, but not endanger human lives on the way down. We’ve made what we think is promising progress but figuring out how to test them without pissing off the proverbial hornet’s next is problematic.”  
Where Smith saw problems, McKinney saw nothing.  
“Why is pissing off the swarm problematic. That is the goal of the flyswatter, yes?”  
“That is the goal of the flyswatter when it is operational. If the belt feeders break or the system overheats then we’re sitting ducks. Reports show that the scavengers do not react well to being shot at.”  
“Then get some grunts on the scene with shotguns to finish off what the flyswatter misses.”  
“We considered that. We were hoping you’d speak to Commander Hess for us. We’ve tried to reason with him but he doesn’t seem to like the idea of endangering troops in the name of testing the weapon.”  
McKinney was not surprised. Hess was not on the payroll and was obtusely principled when it came to this sort of situation.  
“Fine, I’ll communicate the importance of the situation to him.”  
“We have another course of action. Radar indicates a lack of scavenger and interceptor activity over large bodies of water. We thought to have the inaugural tests on one of our aircraft carriers in the gulf. We have several prototypes of ballistics that can be used in the flyswatter and we have monitoring devices that can track the heat signatures of the projectiles as they exit the barrel. We’re looking to see if the ammo can achieve sufficient velocity and integrity to reach the general ceiling of scavenger activity while at the same making sure that any ammo that does not strike a target disintegrates on descent so we don’t accidentally pepper our own countryside with bullet spray.”  
“Moving the whole shebang out to sea? That’s probably not cost efficient.”  
“With all due respect sir, since when has that stopped us from doing anything. The DoD has allocated a more than generous budget for this project, as they always do.”  
“Yes, and I would rather not waste any time or money moving the test out to sea when a test on land would give us better results. We need to make sure the projectiles can actually ‘kill’ the damn flying gnats right? We can’t do that out to sea.”  
“Well we can’t do it at all until Hess agrees to devote manpower to the project. I’m not sending my men out to die, it isn’t our responsibility sir.”  
As far as McKinney was concerned, it was the duty of every man and woman gainfully employed by his company to do whatever the company asked of them. He also verbalized the thought, until he realized that their minds were too important to waste.  
“Fine, I will talk to Hess. If I can’t get him to come around then we can discuss moving the project offshore for testing.”  
“Thank you sir.”  
“Alright Smith, let’s see this thing you’re making.”  
Smith led McKinney into the hanger. Inside was several scientists working on what the group had collectively referred to as “The Flyswatter.” It was a vertically mounted turret. More specifically it was a dozen vertically mounted turrets on a single base with a massive belt feeding system that McKinney couldn’t quite make sense of. The Flyswatters purpose was simple; to be a one-machine death dealer to the Scavengers; to shoot them down en-masse with a minimum of invested manpower. It was the first project suggested by the DoD at the beginning of April, when the scavengers were the only expungers who had revealed themselves. In the month since numerous other, more dangerous expungers had appeared, including the squid like ‘interceptors’. Halliburton jumped on this military contract using their numerous connections and lobbyists throughout DC. If McKinney had its way, Halliburton would be covering each project for the total defense effort. As it stood, McKinney knew this project was starting to diminish in importance to the DoD and he feared they might pull the plug before the units could be mass-produced and distributed. He had heard that another company got a contract to designed EMP projectiles that, if successful would take both the interceptors and scavengers down in waves. There was also the buzzings of the “Hallowed Burial Act” going through congressional channels that would mandate all corpses be cremated immediately upon confirmation of ToD. Halliburton had their lobbyists going full steam, putting doubt into congress’s mind about the viability of using EMPs in populated areas and insisting that The Hallowed Burial Act would meet with extreme voter backlash. But still he worried. They didn’t have time to move all this crap offshore. There was no time to fuss over whether or not the bullets would just come down and endanger the populace. Declare Martial Law, mandate curfews, all civilians safe in their houses when the flyswatters did their work. Problem solved. Get that asshole Hess to get some armored grunts on the field with buckshot to mop up what the flyswatter misses. Easy. If the military can’t wipe up a couple of loose oversized gnats then why exactly do we even bother having a runaway military budget. Half these grunts are only good for catching bullets, the other half were only good for failing to catch bullets then coming home to surprise their children during major sporting events, which of course was a sure-fire way to increase patriotic fervor and assure that the phrase ‘support the troops’ would never leave the minds of the voting public.  
“Sir,” Smith snapped McKinney out of his distraction. “I believe some of the Engineers would like to have words with you.”  
“Tell ‘em to save it. They’ll get the funding they need. I need this thing finished asap. I need the testing to be done asap. I, however, need to talk some goddamn sense in Commander Hess.”  
When McKinney made his way into the commander’s quarters, he was galled to find that the Commander was in a meeting and would not be available for several hours despite his protests. McKinney, at that moment lamenting his lack of omnipotence, fumed as he waited. In McKinney’s eyes, Hess was a right bastard who did not appreciate everything his company did for the military, and Fort Travis in general. It was companies like Halliburton who ensured that the DoD contracts kept coming in. It was Halliburton’s presence in Houston that allowed Ft. Travis to be the site for these numerous DoD contracts. America’s runaway military budget; a budget Hess and his cronies benefitted from just as much as private contractors, was due in thanks to Halliburton. Without Halliburton’s oil interests in the Middle East their lobbyists would have no reason to urge congress to wage unwinnable military quagmires in the region; these protracted affairs were both the literal and figurative oil that kept the gravy train rolling. These contracts assured that American soldier were the best equipped and most taken care of in world history. Halliburton was not some kind of nuisance who was to be left to waiting while Hess frittered out in whatever nonsense meeting he was attending for 3 hours. Halliburton was the patron of the entire US military and frankly Hess should have been at least waiting for him at Hanger 42 when he arrived today.

“Fuck, Hess should have been waiting to suck my dick quite frankly.” McKinney fumed as day turned into night. McKinney mulled over the possibility of heading back to Hanger 42 to see what his techs wanted to whine about, but it wasn’t important. Only being damn sure that his was the first face Hess saw after disengaging his head from whatever ass was making McKinney wait for 2 hours was important.  
Finally Hess arrived. A strong-shouldered, barrel chested lifelong military man, Hess possessed both the intangible and tangible assets to make the jump to politics and the life of leadership outside of the military, but his single-minded principles would prevent him from ever doing that. Hess didn’t much care for McKinney, McKinney knew this and didn’t care. In his mind, people without enemies were people without balls.  
“McKinney, I had heard you were coming today. I figured you’d have already left by now.”  
“I would be gone already had you been there upon my arrival.”  
“That was not my responsibility. I can’t jump whenever one of you suit-type come in for an inspection of whatever the fuck you’re cooking at any given moment.”  
“Those contracts fuel..” McKinney waved his arms around in a manner that suggested a sort of all-encompassing view. “This. Disregarding that could be bad for this base and your career.”  
“Do you have business or are you just peacocking? Because last I looked this isn’t a bar and I’m not a tipsy college student.”  
“Authorize the deployment of troops for the field tests of The Flyswatter.”  
“Tests are not conducted against live targets. This isn’t a test, it is a deployment. I will deploy my men with your damn toy when I am damn sure it is good and ready and not before.”  
“The situation is unique I will admit. But you can’t throw a ball into the sky without hitting 3 of those stupid gnats.”  
“Your chief tech mentions that an offshore test would work in that regard.”  
“We do not have the time to move the whole thing to an aircraft carrier.”  
“Oh, why is that? Is it because you’ve been getting word that the DoD isn’t so interested in your little toy anymore?” Hess became mocking. McKinney was only getting more upset. “They’re more concerned with the giant nightmare robots plaguing Mexico? Is it because they know your toy will do fuck-all against their air-carriers? Are they more concerned about the squid-things that snatch missiles and planes out of the sky? Is it because they know that the scavengers have already stolen most of our dead and they’re more concerned with protecting the public than making you rich? You just want to get this thing into production before they can say ‘you know what, fuck your stupid toy we’ve got bigger problems?”  
McKinney for some reason felt no reason to lie.  
“And what if I say ‘yes’ Hess? What then? Yes Hess, I want to mass produce those things as soon as possible. I want to deploy those things as soon as possible. I do not have time to listen to your insubordination.”  
“MIND YOUR PLACE MCKINNEY!” Hess was enraged. “No matter how much money you cram up congress’s ass you are NOT my boss!”  
McKinney realized he let his anger put him in an undesirable position. He demurred and attempted a different tactic.  
“Very well then McKinney, my apologies if they will make you feel any better. But yes, we have invested a significant amount of resources into a weapon that will protect the American people. Yes, for now the scavengers are not a threat to the living, but we’ve seen how that can all change immediately. It is not unrealistic to believe that the scavengers will become an aggressive threat to the people of this country much like they’ve become a threat to Mexico and to Africa and the North Korea.”  
“Yes McKinney, I am worried about the people of these United States. That’s why I don’t particularly care about your toy. I care about the work other companies are doing. Personally, given the magnitude of the threat other types of Expungers I would much rather see the DoD’s investment go to their research. Useful research. Research that might actually win this eventual war and not just swat a bunch of stupid flies that can be taken down with small arms fire…probably killing a bunch of civilians in the process.”  
“Hess, you care about winning this war. I care about winning this war. I care so much that I believe that we should follow UN president Prudhommes recommendation and unify as one global culture in this time of crisis. Did you know that the Mexican military is fighting against Expunger forces not 300 miles away from our current location? Frankly I think the United States should help them. The fighting is so close to our border already refugees are fleeing over the border like cockroaches from the light of day, many of them drug runners and gang members looking for a place where they can regroup. We both know tension is extremely high here, it wouldn’t take much to get congress to agree to send military aid down to Mexico and intervene personally. And of course with Ft. Travis being so close it stands to reason that many of your forces would be deployed. Can you imagine a bunch of good ol’ boys risking their lives in an unwinnable war to protect the interests of a country whose primary export is scabs?”  
Hess was unimpressed.

“Mexican military officials have ordered the military only to intervene to protect civilians from the Expunger purge. There is reason to believe that the Expungers will withdraw from the country soon, as all signs point towards every major Mexican drug cartel being…to use their word, expunged. We have no reason to intervene in a war that Mexico isn’t even directly fighting.”  
McKinney know this to be true. He also knew that in the light of the North Korea affair and The Emissary’s ultimatum against outside assistance, Congress will be loath to intervene in any international conflict with the Expungers until they feel the military is fully prepared which would probably be never. He also knew sometimes in life you needed to bluff.  
“Perhaps you are right Hess. Of course, we have started wars for far less. All we ask is a minor deployment to protect our interests while it shoots down what you yourself have called ‘a bunch of stupid flies that can be taken down with small arms fire.’ It will hardly be a challenge. The Flyswatter won’t win the war, but I guarantee the American public will be a lot safer and a lot happier with a flyswatter standing sentry over what remains of our dead….and our living. It’s a small investment of a couple of soldiers who, let’s be honest, have been dying to go loud against these things. It’s win-win really.”  
Hess did not want to yield to McKinney’s will, but he really didn’t want to risk him going to his ass-kissers and starting a war they couldn’t win. Hess believed that McKinney was in fact, that stupid.  
“Fine, you will get your damn security detail for your little test. We’re done here. Get out.”  
“Gladly.” McKinney left again, continuing to be secure in the knowledge that interesting times were a time of terror only for those without the balls to grab the opportunity. But before leaving Ft. Travis he would get a phone call that would challenge even McKinney’s certainty of this.  
“McKinney.” The voice belonged to Halliburton Chief Operating Officer Dave Kent. “I assume everything is in order with the Flyswatter?”  
“Smooth sailing sir.”  
“Good, things are starting to heat up. Just picked up a rumor from the boys at the UN, Canada is considering capitulation.”

April 30th

Five days after the Expungers declaration of the revocation of North Korea’s autonomy and informed the General Assembly that Sun San-Yeong was slated to be expunged. 5 days after Sun San-Yeong fled the UN council and vanished seemingly into thin air. 4 days after the arrival of UN Forces to the Kyun-Yee Military base, where they confirmed the validity of the Emissary’s story that North Korea did in fact fire missiles from that facility and that the missiles did in fact possess nuclear warheads. 4 days after The Expunger military invasion of North Korea began in earnest. 3 days after news of the nuclear attack, including classified footage of the American military interrogating North Korean submariners captured off the coast of California, where the submariner admitted to the usage of nuclear arms was leaked to news outlets throughout the globe. This was the day that Alexis DeSousa decided to once again speak with The Emissary, off the record. She felt he was speak to her again, because she had something he wanted to hear.  
So again did DeSousa wait until the United Nations General Assembly adjourned for the day to attempt to speak with him again. The days proceedings were tiring, revolving around North Korea’s informal suzerain state China attempting to rally the combined military power of the UN’s attending nations to retake North Korea from The Expungers. Surprisingly The Emissary remained silent. Not surprisingly nobody was willing to offer aid to a country that was not in high standing in the UN anyway. The fact that the general assembly was not the National Security Committee was becoming more and more obvious every day. The delegates in the general assembly had no authority to coordinate the armies of their countries anyway and DeSousa was growing wearing of arguing over things they had no direct control over. She was sick of arguing in general. It was obvious that as always, every nation was out for itself. Cooperation had to be dragged out of them kicking and screaming, and sometimes it wouldn’t come at all. DeSousa had believed that despite this, the United Nations had an ultimately beneficial effect on humanity. She believed it did good. It was worth investing in. It was worth believing in. But upon hearing the tales of the Expunger’s activities in the zones in which they were active. Hearing about the huge strides made in containing Ebola along Western Africa. Hearing about how the Expungers were removing petty warlords, slavers and rebellions consisting of little more than a bunch of glorified marauders from all over the continent elevated her. She knew the UN, for all its efforts in the region had taken years to accomplish 1/10th of what the Expungers had accomplished in weeks. She feared that despite this, the corrupt regimes that ruled the lands there would now prosper unchecked by the possibility of civilian revolt, but that was one of the things she would have to ask him. Did they have a plan beyond the stabilization, suppression and humanitarian efforts they were exercising at this time? She started to be afraid that interacting with The Emissary outside of official UN functions would be looked down upon, but she had to try. There had to be a better way than bleeding the world dry trying to a fight an army that had effortlessly dismantled a global nuclear strike, annihilated the major Mexican drug cartels and was currently reducing the North Korean military to rubble inside of a single month.  
“What if I told you that Canada was considering capitulation?” DeSousa knew how to begin the conversation.  
“That would elate us. Do you speak for yourself or for your country at this time?”  
“As you can imagine I have many contacts in the government of my home country. Among them I have been able to build some support for the capitulation plan. However if you are looking for a universal accord among my constituents, I fear some would rather go out on their shields then without them.”  
“Of course, surrender is not in the nature of mankind. How can it be? Throughout history those who have surrendered have been annihilated, their cultures reduced to dust and anonymity. That you would appear before us already in somewhat surprising.”  
“It would be easier if you were to speak with them directly.”  
“As Emissary, it is my duty to inform the world of our intentions and our methods. Negotiating capitulation is a matter for the Ambassadors. They have been made aware of your intents and will be deployed to speak with your constituents on our behalf.”  
“But it would have more weight coming from you. You are the leader of the Expungers aren’t you?”  
“The Expungers have no leader. I am simply a mouthpiece that speaks to the world. The Ambassadors speak with no less authority than I do.”  
“Alright then. Before you send your ‘ambassador’ to us, there are some questions I would ask you directly. Since you’re here and you’ve been willing to speak with me before. There are some things that are concerning us that we would have your reassurance of before such conversations can even begin.”  
“I will answer your questions as far as I am able.”  
“In Africa. You have stabilized the region but left many corrupt rulers and governments in place. While in North Korea and Mexico you have killed numerous officials you have deemed as corrupt. Why are you treating Africa with a silk glove in that regard.”  
“If we killed every corrupt official in Africa, there would hardly be anything left.”  
“But you are currently in the act of rendering North Korea a geographic no-man’s land? It seems like something of a double standard.”  
“The government and military of North Korea attempted global destruction. They were too dangerous to allow on the world stage. As for our plans for Africa; just because we have not expunged the corruption from the local governments doesn’t mean we won’t. Once stability has been brought to the region we will survey the political landscape and expunge corrupt, seditious elements as soon as we are able while replacing them with officials who possess the ability to lead with selflessness and altruism. And are willing to work alongside us rather than against us.  
“So a puppet government then.”  
“Your perception of these things would indicate that yes, it would be a puppet government in a sense. We require capitulation. In areas where it can not be given it will be taken. It is, I admit, the cruelest thing about our objective here. We would not do it were it not necessary. But we can not aid a human condition so intent on its own destruction. We wish to help you. But you must let us help you.”  
“Will you expunge Canadian officials in a similar sense?”  
“Canada’s rate of political corruption is considerably below the global average. Indeed few of them are corrupt enough to be considered beyond the ability to help as they are. Many of them will need to recant current activities and habits they are involved in, but they have the potential to lead your people into a post Capitulation society. Those who will not though we be expunged just like any other seditious element.”  
“When you say ‘elevate the human condition’ what do you mean by that?”  
“It can not be properly explained, only experienced. I’m sorry I can not be more clear on the issue.”  
“Will you experiment on us? Are we test subjects to you?”  
“There is no need for experimentation. We already know the results.”  
“Allow me to rephrase then. Will you ‘change’ us in any way against our wills. Will you turn us into monsters? Are we chattel to you?”  
“You are not ‘chattel’ to us. You are precious in ways you can not yet begin to imagine. There will be change, but no drastic anatomical alterations like what you are implying. Unless you want them. We only wish to remove from humanity those things that make you destroy yourselves.”  
“Like our free will?”  
“No. Your free will is what makes you, you. We are simply here to make a better you. Now I fear that beyond this point our conversation will become circular. I can offer no more assurance at this time. We would greatly appreciate if you would tell your people in your country to be agreeable for the arrival of an ambassador. The question is; will you?”  
“I have one more question.”  
“What is it?”  
“Will these negotiations be made public knowledge? Like how the nuclear attack footage leaked? I assume you were responsible for that.”  
“Matters concerning the dissemination of information concerning the North Korean nuclear attack I can not speak of, but all matters of capitulation will be made public. Private negotiations engender paranoia. Paranoia creates an unstable political climate. Rest assured, we will assume protection of your country once the talks have begun. Now, may we begin the talks?”  
Alexis DeSousa knew that she faced what may be the biggest decision in Canadian, if not human history. The first to discuss peace with the Expungers. Even if that peace came at the cost of surrender wouldn’t it be worth it? She could not allow her people to be dragged into a hopeless war against a foe whose power far exceeded their own. Making this deal would not endear her to the rest of the General Assembly, but she grew tired of them. Spoiling for war rather than bargaining for peace. The world was fully capable of war without the interference of the United Nations general council. Thinking of on, DeSousa had made her decision.  
“I accept your terms. Send your Ambassador. I will tell my contacts to expect them.”  
“Very well then. We shall make the announcement public once the ambassador arrives in your country. However, I suggest you find your way back to your suite before you are missed.”  
DeSousa nodded in silent assent as she left the almost empty General Assembly meeting hall. However, unbeknownst to her or The Emissary, Andrew Clark had already started to miss her and in the process of looking for her heard not anything, but enough to provoke to contact his friends in DC and beyond.  
April 30th

8:12 PM.  
Even if Thomas Petrie wanted to avoid the news, the news was going to come to him.  
“CANADA IS SURRENDERING TO THE EXPUNGERS!”  
“Canada is waving the white flag.”  
“Canada’s capitulating?”  
“Can you believe this, Canada’s giving up?”  
Initially Thomas couldn’t imagine what they were talking about. A country actually surrendering to the Expungers. It was beyond sickening. He had to get confirmation. He checked the news sites. He checked the television. It was the headline of the day. “Canadian UN Representative Alexis DeSousa rumored to be speaking with the entity known as the Emissary in private earlier this afternoon. Source reveals that the subject of capitulation to the Expungers was brought up and the Canadian representative was said to be amenable towards entertaining the arrival of Expunger ‘Ambassadors.’ Thomas again felt the nausea of social betrayal well up in his bile ducts.  
The texts continued to ignite his phone. Mostly from the people who were boycotting Richards’ and the Church of St. John. They had spent the better part of the last week asking him what to do. They seemed lost and confused. The idea of opposing their church was so foreign to them Thomas was amazed that they were able to put on pants in the morning. He thought of visiting their places of business, just to make sure that they didn’t actually forget. But they all looked to him for leadership at this time. Thomas couldn’t figure out why. Because he spoke his mind first? Because he walked out first? Because he was the only one brave enough to interrupt the pastor mid-sermon? Were these the leadership qualities Pastor Richards saw in him. If it was true, then it was utterly, incomprehensibly bizarre to Thomas. Thomas was no leader. He had a hard enough time leading himself these days. The despair over losing Beth, both spiritually and physically was only a lingering spark in the back of his mind now. Now there was anger and there was betrayal. There was confusion. The world didn’t make sense. The barbarians were at the gate and now apparently Canada is inviting them in for poutine and hot chocolate.  
And to make matters worse, now he was going to have to text each of these folks back out of politeness. He was going to have to listen to them go on and on about their problems, their confusion. They were looking to him for guidance when he was as confused as the rest of them. Thomas thought to ignore them. Thomas thought to send a message that despite his defiance he was no leader of me. He had no plan and no clue. He was as rudderless as the rest of them.  
But he didn’t. He didn’t because he was polite. And he didn’t because even though he had no plan now, somewhere within him he knew that despite his protests to the contrary, that despite the fact that he had no plan today. He may have a plan tomorrow. What that plan was he could not imagine. But he knew that when that imaginary non-existent plan took shape. He would need help. 

May 1st

DeSousa didn’t know how her conversation with The Emissary leaked into the media, but she knew it was bad news.  
The Emissary said that he did not wish to keep any conversations of capitulation secret. He did not want to foster paranoia among the other countries. DeSousa was beginning to see why. As soon as the information hit the media circuit there was no ends to the texts. Many of them came from her fellow delegates; they were frequently more curt and rude than she was accustomed to, particularly the texts from Carla Marquez who all but accused her of initiating the Expunger attack in her country. They were mostly accusatory in some way shape or form. Many of her fellow contacts and constituents from Canada accused her of handing her country over to the Expunger threat. A few understood. A few understood the power of negotiation. A few could see the potential the move offered. A few could see that entertaining the ambassadors was not necessarily capitulation. She just needed the information to remain hidden until it was announced in the Monday council. Now that she thought of it, communicating her willingness to negotiate with The Emissary on a Friday was likely unwise. Even if the information hadn’t leaked it was fully possible that the Ambassadors would arrive before the council convened on Monday. It was possible the information would have leaked on Saturday or Sunday rather than Friday.  
“The council chose a fine time to take a weekend off.” DeSousa lamented as she continued to leaf past the accusatory texts, many of which were not even in English. The council had convened daily since the arrival of the Emissary on April 4th, incredibly unorthodox but the gravity of the situation demanded action. Not that the UN could provide action. This was not a situation that could be resolved via sanctions or peacekeeping efforts. There were only two choices; war or capitulation, and the UN excelled at neither. Realizing this, Prudhomme called for a weekend recess to allow the assembly to rest from the unrelenting weeks of meeting. DeSousa suspected that Prudhomme was just sick of listening to everybody bicker. She couldn’t blame him. She was sick of it too. And on Monday the recriminations would begin in earnest. She wouldn’t hear the end of it and it would become her responsibility to stand upon the dais and defend her decision to allow the subject of capitulation to be discussed in her home country. It was a distasteful prospect, but one that DeSousa would not hide from.  
As she thought on it, DeSousa grew disgusted. How could no other country even contemplate the notion of capitulation. They all knew that the Expungers were effortlessly disposing of the military forces in North Korea; the Expungers could be kind, but they could also be cruel and they did not flinch at the enormous amount of lives lost, both military and civilian. Their efforts in Africa were no different. There were reports of rebellions attempting to target humanitarian efforts to try to get the Expungers to demure. They did not. The human shield technique did not work on the Expungers; they simply achieved their states goals regardless of the lives lost. Thinking on it did not make DeSousa regret her decision. It was better to contemplate capitulation. It was better to work with these beings than against them. The world made its case, and on Monday she would make hers.  
Then there was a knock on her door.  
“Oh good, somebody to yell at me in person.” DeSousa thought to have her security detail send the visitor away. But she thought better of it. She realized that shutting herself away would just cast more suspicion upon her.  
It was Andrew Clark. He looked concerned. DeSousa had noticed that his admonition was suspiciously absent from the block of texts she had received.  
“Ah Clark, come to yell at me in person have you?” DeSousa stood defiant. She would not be cowed by this conversation.  
“No, no, no yelling. There is no need.” Clark’s voice was atypically subdued. “First, I figure that in the name of full disclosure, I should tell you that I’m the one that ratted you out.”  
“And why would you do that Clark? What were you hoping to accomplish?”  
“One of our neighbors was discussing surrender with the enemy. My constituents needed to know.”  
“And they would have found out. I would not have been able to keep it secret even had I wished it. You needed only wait. How did you find out anyway?”  
“There was something I wanted to discuss with you, but I couldn’t find you so I doubled back to the assembly hall. I had wondered for awhile if there were delegates speaking with The Emissary in private so I couldn’t help but look while I was there. When I saw you…I wish I could say I was surprised but I wasn’t. Not really.”  
The US’s derision towards Canada’s conservative military policies was no secret to DeSousa, so she didn’t bother to ask why Clark didn’t find her attempt to seek negotiation over a martial answer surprising.  
“So you heard half a conversation and decided to crow your conclusions to everybody who would listen.”  
“My constituents in the country needed to know this information as soon as possible.”  
“And how exactly did the media get ahold of this information? Your contacts lack discretion.”  
“I did not leak anything to the media. Frankly I don’t know who did.”

“Well let me paint you a picture Clark. You told your people back in Washington. And then you told your people in the private sector. Your military contractors feed off fear and war, so why not spread the information to the press. Now the American people have a new boogieman to hate. So close to their own borders no less. The funny thing is they really didn’t need to bother. You and I both know that while making the knowledge of Canada’s consideration…just a consideration mind you, we are still a long way away from reaching any kind of consensus, our consideration of capitulation public would at least do something to assure the UN council of our transparency, your people would just skim the headlines and draw the more terrifying conclusions. But I guess your pocket liners decided they couldn’t wait 2 days when there was profit to be held today.”  
“Firstly Alexis you’re jumping to conclusions. We don’t know that my private contacts spread the information. Secondly I heard enough of the conversation to know that you would keep your discussions secret if you could have helped it. You’re only being transparent because the decision was taken out of your hands.”  
DeSousa couldn’t deny her desire to keep the discussions secret, but it did not deter her. “I entertained the notion of keeping the discussion clandestine. I did this because all the UN can do is cast blame and accusations at each other while championing their own countries’ agendas. And all the while the conversation remained ‘how do we stop the Expungers’? The idea that we can’t stop the Expungers never occurred to you. The idea that we shouldn’t stop the Expungers never occurred to any of you. Why was I the only one who reached out? We’re all afraid. We’re all afraid and casting accusatory eyes at one another. I discussed keeping it transparent because I knew the council couldn’t handle it rationally. But when The Emissary mentioned that potentially fueling that paranoia was a bad idea, I had to agree. Better to have it out in the open where you all can put the blame where you think it belongs rather than driving yet another wedge between the attending countries. Do you know what you’ve done Clark? Now every country in the Assembly is going to think that every other country is having private capitulation talks with The Expungers. I hope you liked perpetuating your culture of fear Clark, because that’s exactly what you’ve accomplished. Good luck getting the Assembly to reach anything vaguely resembling an accord from here on out.”  
Clark was stunned. DeSousa knew he hadn’t considered that angle. DeSousa could see Clark knew he had erred.  
“Ok, I can admit that I may have acted impulsively without thinking of the potential consequences to my actions when I contacted my constituents. That wasn’t why I came here. Telling you of my involvement was simply an attempt to be transparent. I came here to get it from the horse’s mouth. I wanted to know why you were giving up on humanity so soon. We don’t know what we can do against the Expungers. We haven’t really tried. All the countries the Expungers have hit have small, outdated and underequipped militaries. They haven’t faced a real force yet. You’re giving up before your taking the field. But its obvious you seem to buy into what they’re selling, so I won’t bother asking you to repeat it. Good day representative DeSousa.” Andrew Clark turned around to leave, his posture was slumped, his body language spoke of abject disappointment, DeSousa didn’t know if he was more disappointed in her or himself.  
“I just don’t want to destroy the world in the name of preserving a status-quo we all know to be inherently broken and wrong.”  
Clark didn’t bother turning back around.  
“So you’ll rather chase the easy fix. The promise of a magic deus-ex machina emerging from the sky to fix all our problems.”  
DeSousa did not feel like discussing philosophy at the moment, so she allowed Clark to leave her suite without another word.

May 2nd 

Pastor John Richards knew there would be holdouts. He knew he would not be able to reach everybody. There were simply those entrenched too deeply in their own rigid belief systems to allow something as radical as what he was preaching in their minds and their hearts. He wished Thomas Petrie wasn’t one of them though. He wished that Beth Petrie hadn’t perished at the time she did. He wished that the scavengers had not chosen to claim Beth at the moment they did. Thomas was traumatized. To have it happen in front of him was obviously the last straw, the last bit of trauma on his already taxed psyche. Thomas was broken, and despite his best efforts to fix him, he remained so. Richards would not give up on Petrie though. Petrie was a good man, and he was a leader this community would need. In time he would heal, of this Richards was certain. He couldn’t see how wonderful his future would be. Richards knew that he would be able to show him. But that was in the future. For now there was his flock. Approximately 70% of the congregation remained after the mass exodus of last week, which was within Richard’s projected estimates. He still had 70% of the people. From the dais Richards could see that there were even a few who had walked out last week. Richards knew why; the world had just dodged a nuclear bullet because of the Expungers. He was sure a few of them could come to see that what the Expungers truly were in the wake of this event. Of course there’s was always the possibility that a few more of them were shaken from the experience and had come back to the only place they knew to get the support and stability they required. Regardless of their motivations, Richards would guide and counsel them as best as he could.  
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the congregation of The Church of St. John, again it falls to me to bestow upon you hope in the face of a world of increasing terror and despair. Now I know that week my sermon met with some mixed reactions, but this was to be expected. I do not regret my decision and despite their apparent efforts to get me deposed from my post here I am here to assure you; I do not intend to go anywhere. I will counsel and guide you to the best of my abilities as the Pastor of this Church. And should their pressure make its way to my superiors and I forced to step down from this dais, know that even should such a day come, know that I will not abandon you. Even if Pastor Richards can not stand upon this dais and preach The Word to you, John Richards shall be here to offer whatever support I can. Now I know that right now even among those who remain in the church that there is divisiveness. Some wonder if Thomas Petrie and his company have the right of it. You may think perhaps my perception of the Expungers is perhaps a little too positive. Know that I do not blame you for this. Know that I do not judge you for this. If you wish to discuss these matters openly with me I am amenable to such things. In the name of civility, I humbly request you do not do it mid-sermon however.”  
The last phrase was said with a jocular air. The congregation gave a polite chuckle.


End file.
